


I always knew, but did you?

by Spn_Life_2005 (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Brother Love, Childhood Memories, Comfort, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Fluff, Graphic Description, Hurt Sam Winchester, Jealous Dean Winchester, Jealous Sam Winchester, Jealousy, Kidnapped Sam, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Rage, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Separation, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Teasing, Underage Rape/Non-con, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, Young Winchesters, long fic, mine, semi dark fic, yours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Spn_Life_2005
Summary: This is the story of how the boys grew to care for each other, protect each other.Its the story of how their love proceeded over time and no one, not even their own kin managed to tear them apart.What really happened when they were young?What happens when one of them leaves voluntarily?AU-ish, in which the universe tries to drive Sam and Dean apart, but it never works. Not even by their own will.





	1. Chapter 1

**May 2, 1983**

The day Sam Winchester was born, the day Dean’s life changed for good.

“Dean, meet your new baby brother” he heard John, his father say. Dean was almost four years old and was practically scared half to death, after all he didn’t know what to expect, he didn’t know what to do now that there was someone else in his life. He had so many questions; was so confused and didn’t know what to do with this little squirming baby that had just been set on his lap, after being away at a friend’s house for two whole days because Mary was at the hospital giving birth to Sam, Dean was utterly confused.

“Wha’s his name mommy?”

“Sam, Sam Winchester” said Mary

“Sam…” Dean repeated out loud, trying it on for a taste

“Sam, Sammy… I like it”

“We hoped you would” chuckled John

“He’s your baby brother now, pretty soon you’re going to have a friend to play with and you’re going to love him very much” said Mary, in an almost heavenly whisper. Newborn baby Sam looked up into Dean’s eyes and they simply lit up. That was when Dean knew he loved his baby brother, and he would absolutely never be the same.

                                                                                                  

**November 2, 1983**

The day Mary died, exactly six months after baby Sam was born. The day Sam was shoved into his big brothers arms and was hurried out of the house with a raging fire to their backs, leaving a nursery burned to the ground, and their mother pinned bloody to the ceiling. On that day John Winchester changed, anger, rage and sadness filling every part of his being, he became a vicious hunter; a man so vengeful, so full of unforgiving anger that he held the appearance to have belonged to a line of cold blooded killers, there was rage and hate in every bullet shot or puncture of his knife. He was so consumed in getting revenge and payback that he barely had time to take care of his children and raise them properly in a loving home like everyone else. Sam and Dean were raised moving from state to state, changing schools every few weeks, and never resting their heads in the same place twice. They slept in Motels; Uncle Bobby’s house or maybe even in the backseat of their fathers’ 1967 Impala.

                                                                                                          

**June 13, 1987**

Dean grew up to follow his father’s footsteps, and orders, he was obedient, trusting, and protective. John always left little Sam with Dean when he had to go out on a hunt to chase demons or monsters, and always told him it was his responsibility to protect and care for his little brother. Dean took care of Sam, and always felt the need to protect him not only because John told him to, but because he loved his baby brother very much and he knew the kind of dangerous and horrible things that were out there and he would do anything to protect his Sammy from those living nightmares. He wanted to raise Sammy like a normal kid, without having to worry about the things he did, so Dean chose not to tell Sam about those things his father was out risking his life to kill, and the things he protected Sam from with his life.

“Dee wher’s dad?”

“Sammy, you know where he is, you don’t have to ask”

“But wha’s he doin?”

“He’s workin Sammy”

“Doin what”

"…"

“Sammy! Stop being annoying okay, go to sleep”

“But Deeeaann!!”

“Drop it Sam! Now go to bed”

Sam knew that he should quit it, but he also knew Dean had a weak spot for his puppy eyes, and he really wanted to know why his Dad was never home. he couldn't possibly be working the WHOLE time.. right??

“But Dee I don wanna!” Sam sat up on the creaky twin motel bed, chubby arms pushing him up from the mess of sheets he was sitting on. Lights dim, probably just an illusion and Dean was sitting on the sofa with his back to Sam's bed watching TV.

“Let me watch some TV with you”

“No! Sam I already told you, go to bed and leave me alone!” Dean spat out, ' _Agh dammit, that was too harsh'_  a small flash of guilt washed over him ' _dont turn around.. dont turn around... dont tu-'_

Dean turned his head, with his left arm propped over the back of the green cloth sofa and all he could see was Sammy cuddled up in a blanket, fixing his eyes he could barely manage to see the slight mmovements coming from under the bed sheets. And then it hit him, he had made Sammy cry ' _shit. no, UGH! im so stupid, I made him cry.. im such an idiot oh my gosh'_  he continued to stare at the blanket huddled Sam hiccupping with sobs

“Sammy.. Whats wrong Sammy??” Dean got up from the rusty old love seat with a loud creak 

“You dnt- want me round. I get it” he said in  a barely-audible voice coming from under the covers. Dean stared wide-eyed, amazed at how a four year old could overthink so much about his stupid big brothers words 

“no! Sammy come on, you know its not like that Sammy, i'm so sorry.” Dean walked around to the little lump of blankets huddled up against the headboard farthest from him, against the wall

“Come on Sammy don’t be like that, of course I want you around! But its late and you have to go to bed baby boy.” Dean attempted unwrapping his little brother from the bleach-stiff blanket. Surprised at how much resistance he was putting up.

 “Sammy come on, baby boy look at me” he found Sam's face and lifted it up with his finger, rubbing his thumb over Sam's flushed-red and tear stained cheek wiping off the tears. His eyes still shut and still trying to muffle his sobs

“s’okay SammySam, its okay. Shh s’okay” Dean pulled Sam onto his lap and rocked him for a couple minutes

“Y'know you have to go to bed, wha’s wrong?”  Dean could still hear the sniffled sobs from Sam tucked under his chin pressed tight against his chest, Sam’s little arms wrapped around Dean’s waist. He pulled back just enough to look into Deans eyes

“m’ not tired Dean. N’ I kinda wanted t’be wi- you” he managed to choke out

“Okay, that’s okay, ill stay here if you want,” He said tucking Sam’s moppy head under his chin gently rocking him back and forth until he felt Sam fall asleep and turned him over, laying on the bed and cuddled up behind him, with an arm around his waist as he fell asleep eyeing once-over the whole room to make sure they were safe.

And that’s how most nights were, the two Winchester boys, in a motel room without their father, sleeping in the same bed, Sam tucked under Dean’s chin close to the warmth of his chest.

                                                                                                              

**August 24, 1988**

      It was Sammy's first day of elementary school, John had left early for a hunt, and Sam didn't sleep all night buzzing with excitement, going over the contents in his backpack a good 70 times. 

"Dean! Deaann!!" All Dean could hear was an incessant chant of " _wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup_!!" Sam hollered while jumping up and down on the bed to get Dean to get up

"mmph-mghm" Still asleep and not even half conscious Dean muffled from his pillow waving his hand signaling for Sam to get off him and let him sleep

"Dean get up! were goin be late! LETS GO!" Sam continued hopping up and down yelling. Dean turned around only to see that it was 05:00 Am 

"No way im getting up at 5 am to go to SCHOOL Sam, go back to bed. We'll go in an hour" Dean argued. Sam sat on Dean with a loud sigh, there was only one thing Sam could do that would surely get Dean out of bed. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, slipped his sneakers on, opened the door, shut it with a too-loud thump and set off running in the direction of the school.

"What the-  SAMMY?! SAMM!!" Dean flew out of bed, he fell asleep in last night's clothes so he didn't need to pause to throw clothes on. He stormed out the door and started running. _'That dumbass is going to get himself killed._ ' Eventually he caught up with Sam, already halfway to the school

"STOP RUNNING, those chubby legs aren't getting you anywhere anytime soon! Sam don't make me say it again! I'll tackle you i swear" Sam knew very well his brother was capable of catching up to him, but he kept running anyway.

"Dammit Sam!" Dean ran up and picked Sam up by his backpack, Sam quickly slipped out of it and made another futile attempt at running, but before he even touched the ground Dean had wrapped his arm around his waist. 

"You're not going anywhere" Dean smirked satisfactorily at being able to hold his little brother down

"Dean LET ME GO!!!" Sam began to flail  his arms and legs attempting to kick and punch anything at range. Dean dropped the backpack that was in his right hand and dropped to the floor, still grabbing onto Sam in an attempt to pin him down. He managed to manhandle Sam between his chest and the sidewalk pavement.

"Sto- STOP FIGHTING!!" Dean had Sam completely defenseless holding his wrists behind his head. Sam kept squirming and wriggling nevertheless trying to get free from his big brothers hold

"Sam, look at me." He stopped fighting so hard and all of his muscles tried to relax as he looked at Dean 

"Sammy you CAN NOT do that! you could've gotten yourself killed or something! don't be stupid!" Sam just stared at dean with a blank expression on his face, but he could see the mix of emotion in Dean's eyes, Fear, adrenaline, worry, and concern.

"I know Dee.. but I wanted to get to school n'd you kept sleepin.." Dean sensed Sam's muscles soften under his grip, so tight it was sure to leave bruises

"Now let go of me Dean y're hurtin me." Dean felt all reasoning fade away and jumped up, helping Sam to his feet. He hated hurting Sammy, even when it was for his own benefit, but it was a stupid mother-hen overprotective instinct of his and it would be long before that faded away. _'Dammit im so weak'_ he thought, ' _everytime he wants to get away with something he just pulls the "wounded" look and i just fall for it. its so unbelievable, those big ass doe lookin' eyes always making me soft._.'

"Dean" the voice snapped Dean back into reality,

"yeah?"

"We gotta get to school, come on daydreamer!"

"right.. RIGHT! of course, yeah lets go.." Dean took Sam's hand and they started walking to the elementary school a few blocks down. Sam was practically bouncing on his toes the whole walk there.  As soon as they got there, Sam gripped on tight to Dean's hand, he was surprised his fingers hadn't turned blue of how hard he was holding on. Dean bent to his knees, and placed a kiss on Sam's forehead and stared into his eyes, there was a terrified expression on Sammy's face, like he didn't know what he was doing there and he definitely didn't want to let go of his older brother, he could tell by the way his fingernails were sinking into his leather jacket. 

"Shh Sammy, its gonna be okay, s'okay, don't worry! you're gonna go in there and make new friends and meet some cool teachers, its gonna be great I promise!" Sam was still practically trembling in his brothers arms and wasn't saying a word, that horrified expression still plastered on his face. 

"you sure Dee??"

"Of course im sure!! it'll be awesome, come on. and If any Jerk is mean to you, you jus' tell me, I'll kick his ass for ya" he said with a smirk, And that managed to get a giggle out of Sam, Dean's eyes lit up, he loved being able to comfort Sam and make him smile, he loved that toothy dimpled grin he made when he was trying hard not to laugh. _'Aw Sammy's so cute, just look at those dimples. I wonder where he got them from. i don't remember Mom having dimples.._ ' The thought of his mother faded the glow in his eyes. and Sam seemed to have noticed because he immediately jumped up and wrapped his arms around his older brother.

"Thanks Dee! Now come on! We're about to be late!!" he beamed, and grabbing his hand he ripped Dean out of any thought he could have possibly be having, running towards the coral-orange building with glass double doors, already completely packed with excited first graders trying to all get in at the same time.

"Woah! Sammy, watch out!, don- Ah! sorry!" Sam literally dragged his older brother through the crowd of five year old's, earning a couple nasty looks thrown from the parents standing with them.

"SAM! you cant do that!!" Dean automatically pulled Sam back stopping them from running into a couple of other adults that were most likely teachers. He pried the hand that was holding Sam's, automatically earning a hurt expression on his baby brother's face. 

"Wha- wha's wrong Dee?" Sam pouted

"No- Nothing, but y- jus' cant just bump into e'ryone like that, Its not jus your first day remember?" Dean tried to explain, but Sam refused to listen to all reasoning and kept tugging at his big brother's arm so they could get a move-on already

"Look kiddo, dont worry about it, but you gotta take it slow, alright?" Dean said, still managing to halt his little brother from trampling anyone in front of him

"mhm. kay Dee, can we jus' go now?" Sam wasn't even paying attention, just trying to get himself into the classroom as soon as possible. 'Jesus this kid is so stubborn' thought dean, and that thought immediately brought a smile to his lips, remembering when Sammy took his first steps, he wanted to do it all on his own, and that earned him a couple of face plants, but he didn't care, the Winchester stubbornness was always there, and Dean had to deal with it. 

*ringgg ringgg ringg ringg* the school bell began, and it was time everyone got to their classrooms

"Dean! i told you! hurry! we're gonna get n'trouble" Sam begged. And with that Dean grabbed Sam by the hips sitting him on his shoulders, holding his hands and ran to the classroom his little brother was assigned to. As soon as they got there, Sam practically leaped from Dean's shoulders and ran into the classroom. Only halting mid-step before reaching the door, and he quickly turned around and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. As his little brother disappeared into the class, Dean took off walking with a smile spread on his face, towards his classroom. 'Such a cuddlebutt that kid I tell ya... I'm actually gonna miss the darn pipsqueak while he's gone'. First grader's were dismissed one hour after fourth graders at 2:30 instead of 1:30, which was when Dean got out, made his way to the motel, prepared lunch and got everything ready before his Sammy made it back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean starts noticing girls, how will little Sammy react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the places mentioned in the story are real, so here are the pictures to make everything a bit more realistic :)  
> Sycamore Elementary: http://prntscr.com/ekhxml  
> Motel: http://prntscr.com/eki1aj

       Dean started noticing girls when he was around 10 years old, as soon as he began middle school; girls automatically began to swarm him, like bees around a very exotic flower. Dean always had the looks, and everyone always stared, those big sea-green eyes and plump lips were sure to get everyone's unwanted attention, even from the teachers. Dean could be doing something as simple as chewing on a pen, and that was honestly all it took for people to glue their eyes on him. Of course, Dean was a shy kid at first, he didn't like the fact that everyone stared at him or looked back everywhere he went, but soon enough he had to get used to it. For a while, he actually tried hiding his features, wearing many layers of clothing, too-big old jeans, even growing out his hair like Sammy, but that just made everything worse, so he went back to short hair immediately.On his first day in Middle schoolDean went to a school in Vermont, Indiana. John was on a hunt for a supposed Werewolf case which was taking longer than expected, so the boys had to stay in Sycamore Elementary for a good 2 months, pretty much the longest they've ever been anywhere. On the first day, Dean walked in with no backpack, no books, no notes, and a smirk on his face. Dean was never one for studying, mainly because he didn't care about school, besides; they were never in one school long enough for anything to really matter. That's why Dean never bothered making friends either, he simply walked in, and walked out, his only worry or responsibility was Sammy, and that’s all he cared about really. As he sat on the farthest seat he could find out in the back of the classroom, a short, blonde girl that Dean barely acknowledged just stared at Dean incessantly, throughout the whole class. At the very end, Dean got up and was already half-out the door when he felt a soft hand grip his arm.

"H-Hi.. I.. I'm Sarah!" she quickly stuttered

"Name's Dean, Nice to meet ya" Dean propped himself on the door frame with his right arm leaning onto it, with that pose he had learned from John.

"Y- yeah.. nice meeting you too! wh- where are you from? I've never seen you um.. around" she asked. ' _oh great.. just what i needed. Someone else asking questions'_

"Umm yeah, me and my brother" _'Why did I just mention Sammy?'_ "We're coming from Texas.. not staying here long I think." he attempted to explain. 

"Oh! you travel often?" she wondered, holding all of her notebooks and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Something Dean found oddly attractive.

"Ha-ha you have no idea.." he chuckled

"oh.. well, that’s great.. i guess..." she fumbled awkwardly with a stray lock of curled golden hair hanging off of her forehead.

"yeah, well I have to get going. But i'll catch you later kay?"

"Yeah! yeah sure. Nice to meet you by the way!" she managed to yell out, but Dean was already walking towards his next classroom. And that's really how most conversations with girls went, not much effort put in from Dean, loads of flirting from the other side, a simple meaningless conversation and nothing special. That afternoon, just as Dean was leaving school, ready to head back to the motel and clean up a bit, maybe even put on a movie, Sarah walked up to him.

 

"Hey! Dean!  Wait up!!" she hollered, running out of the building

"oh hey umm" _'What was her name again.... oh right.'_ "Sarah! what's up?" he tried to hide the fact he had obviously forgotten her name with a soft chuckle, and she noticed,  

"hah, what is it? you got memory loss or somethin'?" she grinned, _'wow real impressive. what? you read that in the dictionary to impress someone? bet Sammy would know without having to practice an hour before. dumb girls..'_

"nah, just surprised me 's all" Dean was a sore loser, and he loved being right. 

"sure.. hahah," she sighed, looking down at her sneakers. "Oh, okay look, the reason i wanted to talk to you was umm.." _'Because you're super cute and i want you at my party?'_ "Its umm. my birthday next week, and I kinda wanted to invite you, and your brother, i heard you guys are pretty cool.. and maybe you wanna come? we'll have lots of food, cake and pie!"

"PIE!?!" he almost yelled, startling the girl "oh, sorry ahaha, i just.. love pie.." _'and your hair.. its so.. **bouncy**..'_

 _"_ Okay cool! so.. you're coming?" she was practically bouncing on her toes

"Uhh.. yeah! ill have to talk to my little brother and see if he wants to go!" he beamed

"Great! see you there" she said, handing him a pink polka-dot envelope with a "You're invited" card with the address and time inside _'ew.. so girly'_

"Thanks! bye" Dean skipped the whole way to the motel, and the only thing he could think about was pie, and how cool it would be to get Sammy out of that moldy apartment for once. He was also really nervous, because he really seemed to like the girl, and he had never been to a birthday party before, all of his and Sammy's birthdays had been inside their motel with a cupcake or two, celebrating alone, not even with Dad. As soon as Dean got to the motel, he stuffed the card in the drawer of the nightstand in between his and Sammy's bed, which for some reason always had a bible. He popped in the shower and got about 20 minutes before Sam came in and started pounding at the door.

"Dean don't y'use all the hot water!! I HATE cold baths!" Dean chucked at that, Sammy was always so worried about getting the cold bath, when in reality he always was the one to use the hot water and leave dean in the freezing shower.

"Yeah princess, don't worry you'll get hot water" he said, slipping on a towel and walking out of the bathroom. Sam was pouting on the bed nearest to the bathroom stretching his arms out like he wanted to be carried. 

"Come on Cinderella, clothes off" he signaled a waving motion telling Sam to lift up his arms, He pulled his dirty little shirt off, that used to be Deans, then his shorts, and his socks. Dean dropped the towel, and once both boys were naked, Dean carried Sam into the shower, which turned into a bath because Sammy wanted it. Dean sat in the bathtub filled almost to the brim with the new bubble bath soap Sam had wanted from the grocery store, with Sam in his lap, who eventually fell asleep on Deans chest. That's when Dean got up, dried his still sleeping baby brother, emptied the tub, and got two large shirts for both of them. And Dean lay with his baby brother in his arms and they slept until morning, the first day of school had been really exhausting for both of them.

 

"Dee, wha's this??" growled Sammy when he found the pink envelope stuffed in the nightstand drawer. Holding it up with one hand he gave Dean bitchface #37

"Whats wha-..  oh" Dean stared at the envelope and his brothers face,  he didn't know if he was going to laugh or cry, he had totally forgotten. ' _SHIT shit shit shitshitshitshit..'_

"Oh thats umm. that's a um, an invitation!" Dean quickly tried to explain, he had completely forgotten about the whole thing, forgot to tell Sammy about it, and forgot to ask John, and the party was tonight!

"Invitation to what?" Sam interrogated. 

"Well, Sammy, ive been meanin' to tell ya, but I completely forgot. There's this girl in my class, and shes havin' a b-day party, and she invited us" he explained, trying to find some answer in his brother's face

"A girl?" Sam puzzled

"Yeah, she's real nice Sammy, and she even invited you to come too!" Dean began to bite his inner cheek, stressing over this probably more than he should.

"Iv'e never seen you go to no girl party" stammered Sam. _'Jesus Sammy why you gotta be so hard..'_

"Yeah well she invited me, and i really like her, so i'm goin'" Dean said

"Fine, if you like her so much. go ahead, go to her party! ill just be here and watch some TV or somethin'" Sam spat, as he went and propped himself on the faux-leather grey sofa, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows blinking back as many tears as possible.

"Fine! Im gonna go have FUN! REAL FUN! without my pain-in-the-ass little brother around to annoy me so much." Dean yelled, and even though he didnt mean it, he was tired of all the bitching and complaining Sammy always had. ' _Its like that boy never gets tired of pullin' my chain.. well ill show him'_ he thought, as he grabbed the invitation, his coat, slipped his sneakers on and walked out the door. Sammy immediately began bawling his eyeballs out, crying because dean had left him to go hang out with some girl, and her girly friends. _'Since when does dean even talk to girls, i never even seen im look at one. those evil annoying brats. If Dean wants to go have fun with those dumb chicks, then i can go have fun on my own too.'_ Thought Sam. And with that he slipped out of the couch, grabbed his coat and left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy decides he's old enough to wander off on his own, but does he know what lies in the dark? Dean cant find his baby brother and its time he asks for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah's house: http://prntscr.com/eki881  
> Waterworks Park: http://prntscr.com/eki8w8  
> Motel: http://prntscr.com/eki1aj  
> Creek: http://prntscr.com/ekia29  
> Kudos, Comments, Suggestions, and Constructive Criticism is welcome! Please enjoy  
> (Also, this would technically replace the episode where Sammy gets attacked by a Shtriga, technically, this happened instead of the Shrtiga attack) AGAIN.. sorry for the cliffhanger :) (I acknowledge Waterworks Park didn't exist back then, but humor me please?)

 

       Dean set off walking to Sarah's house, it wasn't that far from the motel they were currently staying at, and Dean figured he could use some alone-time, although he couldn't possibly leave Sammy alone for more than an hour, thanks to his "mother hen" consciousness, he really wanted to impress that girl, and if going to her party for at least thirty minutes would do that, then he was absolutely going to do that. Besides what could possibly go wrong? Sammy knew how to sit still for a good thirty minutes, he also knew that no matter how pissed or stressed-out Dean was, he would never _actually_ leave his brother, ' _Jus' a lil while, m'sure Dad wont mind, ill jus get back n'hug Sammy, he'll be over it in no time'_ Dean considered. ' _136 S Elizabeth St Kokomo Indiana 46901'_ The invitation read, As he reached Sarah's house, he noticed it was quite a small thing, right across the street from the cemetery. There were pink and orange balloons tied to the mailbox, streamers decorating the front porch, and hanging from the little roof over the door that extended to the right side of the house. A wilting white rose bush that Dean quickly plucked a flower out of, realizing he had not brought a gift. Silently praying no one noticed, he tucked it into his coat making sure to break off all the little pricks on it before giving it to anyone. The cars littered the parking lot and the lights weren't so bright in the evening/sunset light. As he approached the door, such a soft teal baby blue color it almost looked white, he was about to ring the doorbell as the front door swung open, almost magically, like it knew Dean was coming. A tall blonde haired woman who looked like she was _almost_ in her thirties stood in front of him _'probably her mother'_ he thought, ' _after all, she does have the same exact big blue eyes and sharp thick arched eyebrows and perfectly puckered lips and oh m-'_ Deans thoughts were interrupted by the lady's greeting.

"Hello, you must be Dean Winchester?" she asked, perching her palms on her knees  fingers facing inwards, so she was slightly crouched to Deans height. 

"y- yeah.. s'the name. How-" Before Dean could ask exactly _how_ this woman whom he had never seen before knew his name, she replied with a smile.

"I'm Lydia," she stretched her hand out to formally introduce herself "Sarah's mom, she told me all about you." Dean thought for a quick second and then ' _Oh. OH! right.. people in school know my real name.. okay'_ his nerves settled a bit, after all whenever Dad took Dean anywhere, even the grocery store, they used fake names so as to not tip people off or give away their identity.

"Pleasure to meet you, I- I uh m' Sarah's friend from school" he tried while stretching his hand out and shaking the lady's hand, straightening his back to give him a better posture, he reached into the pocket of his coat and handed over the rose, silently thinking ' _She might think this is for Sarah but whatever'_

"Yes! I know, Pleasure to meet you too, such a gentleman!" she commented, taking the rose and smelling it _'She looks just like the models from the movies'_ Dean thought to himself. As she stepped aside signaling with her hand for Dean to come in, she made a quick briefing of the new space surrounding Dean.

"Welcome to Sarah's Birthday, this is the living room" she said while signaling to her right, showing off a large area with a big expensive looking corner-sofa, that was neatly settled on a reddish-brown rug with twined ends and a Television sitting on a small table in front of it. A little further left dean could see their yard looking through the large glass windows that reached from the ceiling to the floor. There was a kiddie pool outside and it was already crawling with girls in bathing suits and pretty little pink and yellow dresses all neatly sitting down at the table eating food that had apparently been served earlier. The house was full of tables and picture frames with baby pictures, images of pets, friends, and one large one at the center of the wall right above the television of their whole family. Dean managed to count four girls about his age, and two boys that were about a year or two older than Sammy. ' _So this is what a normal house looks like huh..'_ Dean stared in awe at all of the little vases and decorations, like he had never seen a place such as this before. 

"Here is the kitchen,"she mentioned, while pointing to her left showing off a shelved display of glass cups, plastic cups, foam cups, wine glasses, shot glasses, whiskey glasses, next to porcelain plates, all matching with the same flowery design, all neatly packed hanging next to possibly the largest refrigerator Dean had ever seen. On the wall, there was a microwave hung up alongside the oven right under it. The cupboards were all a white wood that looked brand new and probably were not more than three years old.

"And if you take the stairs to your left, there is a restroom if you may need one" Dean looked up right in front of him, still standing inside just past the door, he could observe the large set of dark brown wooden stairs that led all the way up to the second floor, which had the lights off so it was pretty difficult to see anything up there. ' _Creepy much?'_ Dean thought.  Lydia's introduction was quickly cut off by a bunch of squealing 5th grade girls that had honestly startled Dean to say the least. _'Holy shit'_ he thought as he jumped up, hands automatically forming fists that Dean managed to keep down at his thighs by some miracle.

" **ITS THE WINCHESTER BOY!"** Yelled all the girls together at the same time. Dean had not noticed they were no longer congregated like some girl cult around the food table and had somehow managed to make their way inside without Dean acknowledging it.

"The one and the only" Dean managed with a smirk, trying to hide the fact that a couple girls had just scared him ' _no. not scared. just.. startled.. is all.'_   Dean managed to spot Sarah almost in the back, who looked nearly trampled but still smiled a shy smile behind all of her squealing best friends. Sarah was the tallest of all the girls there, still obviously not nearly as tall as dean who was almost a head and a half taller than everyone else there. Dean could still hear all of these girls talking and asking him questions and so much noise, but he honestly couldn't take his eyes off of Sarah as he made his way through the couple of girls in between them. As soon as Dean managed to be within reaching distance of her, which had been quite a task. He reached out and pulled her into an embrace. He felt her hands linger a little by her sides, almost as if she didn't know what to do with them, and somehow regained some sort of knowledge because she quickly wrapped her arms around dean as well. She smelled of flowery perfume, pool chlorine, and chicken, which apparently she had been eating. ' _She looks just like her mom.. Jesus she's so pretty.. and smells so good too. i never knew girls literally smelled like flowers'_ Dean pondered as he held her, all of a sudden he realized this hug was taking longer than it should, so he stepped back, clasping her shoulders with his hands and whispered "Happy birthday" into her ear leaning forward. Still too loud to be able to hear the words coming out of her mouth, she mouthed a "Thank you" in response. 

"Dean meet my sisters, Mary, Silvya, and Christine." Sarah managed after everyone settled down.

"Hi, I'm the oldest." Said Christine. Dean observed her up and down, she was the mirror image of the other girl, Mary and as if on cue, she stepped in.

"Actually, we're twins.. Christy here is only 2 and a half minutes older." said Mary, and observing the stunned expression on Deans face, all four of them laughed.

"You four are twins?" he mentioned, realizing Sylvia and Mary looked like they had just been accidentally printed out twice. And with a roar of laughter, all four of them nodded and said " **Yes"**   With his jaw still hanging open, he stared at all four girls, Sarah for some reason being the tallest took a step towards Dean and said

"I am the youngest, out of all of us. But the tallest, nevertheless." Dean continued to stare wordlessly. ' _This girl really has a large vocabulary_ ' he thought to himself. Not that dean even knew what "Nevertheless" meant, but was still utterly impressed. All four girls including their mother had an odd accent, very non typical of Indiana, so he bothered to ask. 

"You guys all have a strange accent" Dean remarked, and that managed a giggle and a blush that spread through all their faces. 

"Our parents are British," Said someone from behind Dean, making him turn around "Meaning they're from Britain, in England." Said the little boy, now facing Dean who had his back to all four girls. He was standing right next to another boy who looked much like him but wasn't his twin, clearly because of the height difference and face.

"This is Julian, and Marcus" Said Sarah, "They're our little brothers. No they're not twins. if you're wondering" she clarified. _'Oh my god, these people love having kids'_ he thought.

"Nice meetin' ya," Said Dean outstretching a hand to the boy who now folded his arms up to his chest refusing to shake Deans hand, making him drop it back to his side. 

"Um, no sorry. We don't know if your hands are dirty. He cant shake your hand" Said the younger boy displaying a disgusted expression on his face. 

"I'm so sorry Dean," Apologized Mary, "They're germaphobes" she said, putting a hand behind each boy's back she led them upstairs and into a room. Observing Dean's 'I'm completely-and-utterly-lost' expression Sylvia stepped forward

"Germaphobia is a condition where people are afraid of anything dirty and cant touch anything thats not sanitized or clean" she explained, with a pained expression on her face, glancing over Dean's shoulder up the stairs, as if she was explaining some lost cause and end-of-the-world sickness. "I sincerely apologize for them, they're just... different" She tried. Dean wondered if Sammy would ever turn into one of those freaks when he grew older, he wouldn't be able to resist his baby brother not touching him. He needed to touch Sammy, to hold him, and make sure he was okay, and that nothing ever harmed him, he thought about how much he loved holding his little hand when they walked to school every morning and how he couldn't fall asleep without his arms being wrapped around Sammy and his little head tucked comfortably under his chin, with his tiny little nose fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. 'Oh my god.. Sammy!' he remembered. He had been a good ten minutes to walk over to Sarah's house, spent about ' _let's see five? minutes talking to Lydia.. another seven maybe talking to the girls, and it would take a good ten minutes to get back to the motel.. SHIT I don't have time!'_

"Sarah!" he exclaimed, "I have to go!, my little brother is waiting for me back at home, and i really only stopped by to say Happy Birthday, but i have to go now! it was nice seeing you but i really _really_ have to go! I'm sorry! " he yelled out while running towards the front door.

"WAIT! you just got her-" she began, but Dean had already left. Tumbling down the step of the front porch, he turned left and started running down the stretch of road. When he hit the end of the road he stumbled upon a sign, he hadn't seen since it was already dark out, ' _Waterworks Park'_   it read. He ignored it and continued walking to his left. Sometime after passing the park, Dean crossed the creek and made it to the main road ' _S Reed Road'_ he read, on the green road sign, turning right he sped down and quickly saw the blue motel sign ' _Comfort Inn'_ he read ' _Finally'_ He made it to the room and opened the door.

"Sammy.. im back.." he said out loud, panting from all the running he had been doing. He was greeted with nothing more than silence. So he tried again. ' _Maybe he's in the bathroom or somethin'_

"Sammy?" he exclaimed again setting his coat on one of the twin beds, he was beginning to get anxious, maybe even a little scared.

"Sammy!?" Here tries again, and surely something is wrong. Dean runs panicked into the bathroom ' _not here_ ' he thinks.. ' _not here... Sammy's not here... oh god. What did I do.. how long has he been gone? What if something took him_..' 

"SAMMY!" His voice echoes off the walls. And is met with deadly silence. 

Dean runs out to the parking lot in a panicked attempt to find his little brother, but he knows... he just knows, that Sammy isn't here.. and hasn't been for a while now. 

"Dad?" He speaks into the phone, voice cracked with fear, audible across the line, surely his father noticed

"Dean? What's wrong? Are you boys alright?" He quickly replied.

"I need help"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has to find Sammy at all costs, how does John react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly reccomend using the images to get a better idea of where everything is located :)  
> "Woods" Near Waterworks park: http://prntscr.com/ekib5f  
> Sarah's house: http://prntscr.com/eki881  
> Waterworks Park: http://prntscr.com/eki8w8  
> Motel: http://prntscr.com/eki1aj  
> Creek: http://prntscr.com/ekia29  
> Map of the road taken: http://prntscr.com/ekiiep  
> Sammy's bracelet: http://prntscr.com/ekiryv

"Sammy's gone" Those were the most terrifying words Dean had ever said, and he was pretty sure they always would be, nothing could compare to it. There wasn't anything that scared Dean more than his baby brother leaving or getting hurt, there was no "There is a witch under your bed" or "A monster is about to kill you" that would invoke the fear in Dean as much as Sammy did. Because Dean loved his little brother, and he was his responsibility, no matter what anyone said, John had always left Sam with Dean and thats just how things worked, it was always "Dean take care of your little brother" and thats what Dean made his priority in life, there was no hunting, no family, no girl, or emotion that could ever make Dean stop loving and caring for his little brother. 

"What do you mean he's gone Dean?" John yelled through the phone to his son

"Yeah he's gone, just gone dad, you have to come home NOW!" is what Dean tried to say, but it came out more like _hesgonjusgondadyougottcmehome NOW!_ he was panting into the phone, desperate and trying to breathe, but he couldn't, there was a tightness around his chest, and it wasn't letting him breathe or think clearly, he was going into a full blown panic attack. He began sweating, pacing, one hand rubbing at his side furiously and the other clutching the phone to his left ear so hard the plastic was bending and making squeaky complaining noises under the force of his hand.

"Okay Dean, you need to calm down and tell me what happened." He said, the strictness of his voice escalating about 10 decibels. But Dean couldn't even attempt to calm down. 'Calm down? CALM DOWN?! MY SAMMY'S GONE, hes GONE! and he wants me to calm down?' he was panicking, and his eyes became clouded with tears, that he didn't let fall, because his Sammy needed him now and he couldn't sit there and cry like a baby. 'This is my fault... all my fault.. oh my god.. I walked out on him, I was the one who left him alone, and now something took him and its all my fault.. he could be dead, and its all my fault' In his flurry of distress he tumbled over his own laces and fell landing on his knees, the jeans splitting right through and peeling the skin with the asphalt of the parking lot. He crouched there on all fours for a minute sobbing to himself 'Sammy's gone.. he's gone and its all my fault.. and i don't know what to do.. gone.. gone... gone...' he chanted to himself in a low sob. The phone, completely forgotten on the floor was still echoing John's words 

"DEAN!! DEANN!! GODDAMMIT DEAN ANSWER ME!" John yelled furiously, not knowing what was going on and completely lost and angry at his son for not responding when he was spoken to. At that, Dean heard the muffled screams on the low voice of the small phone thanks to the dead silence there was all around him. Almost as if nature had decided to stop at this precise moment because Sam Winchester was gone. All Dean could hear was his heartbeat racing and the blood rushing to his ears, he almost fainted, but at realizing the fury in his father's voice, a small fear coursed through him and he picked it back up.

"h-h-ello?" he hiccuped

"DEAN! goddammit ANSWER YOUR FATHER WHEN HE'S TALKING TO YOU BOY! DON'T YOU KNOW ANY RESPECT NO MORE? I SWEAR when i get my hands on you.. I'm sure as hell gonna show you some respect towards ME young man. DO YOU HEAR ME?" John screamed but Dean didn't seem to care about the threats and warnings his father was throwing at him, he simply wanted to find Sam, at all costs.

" y-yessir.." he mumbled

"GOOD. Now you tell me what happened boy. NOW!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**(Earlier that evening..)**

Little Sammy thought it would only be fair that he had his own fun by himself since Dean got to play grown-up and go have fun with girls. 'He wants to go have fun with stupid girls.. thats fine.. thats okay..' Sammy said to himself through the tears streaming down his face. They hadn't been in Vermont for long, but Sam remembered the walk to school Dean and him made every day, and how there was a nice little park he always saw and begged Dean to take him, every day after school, but Dean kept refusing because he said it was "Dangerous" and that there were monsters in the woods near that park, so Sam wouldn't dare get close to them. Dean was always cautious of everything, and took care of Sammy all the time, he was cautious, and never afraid of the things in the dark, 'So why did he leave me like that? He just.. left me.. maybe he don't like me anymore.. maybe he left for good... this is all my fault' he sobbed while running down the road he had memorized of so many times. He finally reached the park past the creek, over the bridge and through the wooded area. As soon as he got there, he sat down on the swing and heard the creak of the chains swinging him back and forth. It was already getting dark, but he noticed there was lights and noise distinguishable in the silence of the night. As he walked down the road, he spotted pink balloons music, and lots of voices talking, and screaming and laughing all at the same time. He was immediately startled when he heard all the voices yell together

 **"ITS THE WINCHESTER BOY!!!"** His face went white with the words, as he looked around but saw no one around him, looking at him, or even acknowledging his existence. That could only mean...

"Oh no.." His immediate reaction was to run, so his body jerked back, but his mind wanted to see, he wanted to know what Dean had really left him for, if it was worth it. His knees trembled as he walked up the steps of the small house, he bent forward peeking through the window and gasped at what he saw. There was Dean, in the middle of a group of screaming girls, all for him, with his arms wrapped around a skinny blonde girl, that could not have been older than 10 or 11 years old. But the thing that hit him the most, was the look on Dean's face, he was smiling, genuinely smiling a toothy grin with this look in his eyes that said "I want to be here forever". Tears welled up in Sam's eyes as a flash of jealousy slapped him in the face, for just that second, he wished with all his heart that he was the one Dean was holding instead of some girl he had just met. As he forced himself to look away, he ran back down the street he came from and just as he reached the park, he fell to the red mulch completely crying and tried to gasp for air, clenching his hands around his chest, as if he was going to have a heart attack. Because there was no Dean coming home tonight to cuddle with Sammy and hush him when he had a nightmare, there was no big brother to sit in the shower to wash the dirt out of your hair and tend to the cuts and bruises you made during recess, there was just a boy, holding onto a strange girl, having the time of his life, completely forgetting about his 'pain-in-the-ass little brother'. All of Sam's incessant crying was stopped abruptly by a hand clasping down on his face with a towel pressed hard onto his nose that had a faint smell of chemical, Sam tried to make out the scent, but all of a sudden he felt the world go fuzzy and dark around him and his limbs turned to jello, the last thing he heard were the sounds of rubber tires pulling out quick from where the vehicle stood. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as Dean hung up with his father, he immediately took off to find his brother, completely ignoring the direct order his father had given him of staying where he was and waiting for him. Because 'Sammy needs me, and i'm not going to sit and wait three hours for Dad to come, he could be dead by then, it would be too late' The thought immediately set tears into Dean's eyes. Dean always obeyed his father, no matter what, he was the perfect obedient child he was raised to be, like a military. But now, everything seemed fuzzy around the edges because Dean knew that the reason Sammy was gone was because he had left him. 'I lost him.. I find him..' he continued to chant while he ran down the road, trying to think like six-year-old Sam. "If i were Sammy, where would I go.. where would I-" He stopped as he stood above the bridge coming to a realization. 

"THE PARK!" he yelled to no one in particular. The darkness of the night was already seeping into every street and the lights began to turn on in people's houses and yards, making it pretty hard to see where there weren't any lamps. Dean in all of his hurry had forgotten a flashlight but was too far out to turn back and get it. As he crossed the bridge for the fourth time that day, he approached the park which was lit, thanks to a rusty lamp on the post by the street

"Thank god" He made a sprint over the plastic barrier holding the mulch in place around the playground and looked around, but there was not a soul to be seen. As soon as all his hopes began to fade away slowly, his eye caught something contrasting in the grass next to him. As he walked slowly towards it, his breath caught in his throat. It was Sam's bracelet Dean had gotten him from that dollar store two years ago.

"Dee come on, i want something, EVERYTHING IS ONE DOLLAR!" Sam pranced around the store with the happiest expression Dean had ever seen.

"Okay. okay nutjob. whaddya want? we got 5 bucks, so make it good." Dean had said, sounding exasperated because of the fact Sam was being such a girl, wanting to go shopping.

"DEE! DEE! LOOK!" Sam exclaimed as he held up a small bracelet with about a dozen small rock engraved skulls separated by round black beads.

"Ew oh come on, your'e gonna waste your dollar on THAT?" Dean exclaimed unamused, a disgusted expression shadowed his face

"YEP!" Sam was so eager to buy the damn thing, and he hadn't taken it off since he bought it, which definitely caused immediate panic in Dean. 'Sammy would never take this thing off, like ever.' he clutched onto it tight, as he looked around to inspect if he could see anything that would point him in Sam's direction. But there was nothing to be seen, just a fresh mark of rubber on the asphalt and a- 'Wait.' he turned around immediately dropping down to examine the tread marks on the road, they were still warm, which could only mean.. 'Something took my baby brother!'

"SAMMY!" Dean yelled into the night, that only seemed to swallow up his words and not respond.

"Sammy please baby boy, be okay.. please Sammy I love you.. im sorry." he chanted off fear clinging to his chest and the words dying off his lips. 'Please Please Please Please.. oh god.. Sammy. oh no.. what have i done..' He continued mumbling to himself. His thoughts cut short when he heard the roaring engine of the Impala. 'Oh no.. had it been that long already? Dad is going to kill me' As if on cue John stepped out of the car and..

"DAD WAIT PLEASE N-" 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John catches up with Dean, and Sam attempts his escape. What is Dean going to do to get his baby brother back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's Butterfly Knife http://prntscr.com/en1wrw  
> Apologies for the constant cliffhangers :) and please comment, i really appreciate those, they are my motivation. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

CRACK 

The bone deep sound of John's fist meeting his jaw crackled in the silence of the night, echoing off in the darkness. The jaw splitting punch Dean received pushed him back causing him to fall over and land on his back.

A litany of ' _Nononono imsorryimsorry please dadimsorry'_ coming out from his mouth were the only sounds Dean could hear besides his father's blows that were still coming at him. Forcefully connecting with anything within reach incessantly as he towered over Dean who had his arms raised to cover his face and on that note were being battered and bruised over and over again.

Dean continued to protect his face and any vital organs he could cover by curling into himself, but his ribs and arms were getting the worst of it. Suddenly he felt John lift him up and throw him, meaning to make him land on the floor, but Dean tried to find his balance and as he scrambled a couple steps back, the impulse landed him on one of the metal rods holding up the playground, causing a big 'BONG' sound that echoed much too loud in the silent neighborhood.

As soon as his head hit the pole, he blacked out and only remembered seeing John walk up to him and continued his beating, probably until he realized Dean was no longer conscious. When he woke up, Dean was in the Impala, the flickering lights of the streets passing him by in a blur, as soon as he realized they were not headed down the same path to the motel, he jerked up.

 

"OH OW!" his head was throbbing and he couldn't feel his arms, they were almost numb of all the hits he had received.

"You're awake." A deep voice from the driver's side rumbled, barely recognizable under the sound of Dean's blood rushing in his ears, but he was sure it was John's

 

Dean didn't respond, he continued to look through the window trying to make out the words on the signs in front of him, but his right eye was swollen shut, and the other wasn't doing very well either.

 

"Where are we headed?" Dean said after his futile attempt to pinpoint his location by the scenery. "Back to Bobby's." John murmured, throwing a threatening look to Dean, knowing very well he was going to protest.

 

"What!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BOBBY'S?" Dean yelled, throwing a glance to the back seat, in case dad had found Sam and they were on their way to safety. "Yes Dean, you heard me. We're going to Bobby's, its final." John said, his tone getting more serious and threatening by the second. 

 

"BUT SAM! Where's SAM!?" Dean continued his protest.

 

"Sam is gone, I'll find him but your'e just going to slow me down, so I'm leaving you at Bobby's and coming back to finish the job and then find Sam." Said John.

 

"There is no way I'm leaving my baby brother, I'm going to find him and You. Cant. Stop Me" Dean stated, every word accentuated by his pointer finger aimed accusingly at John, jabbing it in his direction. All of a sudden Dean's face was pressed on to the glass on the passenger door by the violent swerve the Impala gave. They were now on the side of the road, Johns face had a blank expression as he stared into the road ahead of him, dark with the lack of streetlights.

Tonight was a moonless night, there were no stars to be seen in the sky, there were nearly no sounds or signs of there being any existent nature near them. As if the universe acknowledged Sam was gone, and it stood paralyzed in horror. Dean's eyes welled with tears of the pain, not only physical but emotional, the gut-clenching feeling that his baby brother was in danger made Dean want to retch and double over in vomit and tears. But he would have none of that, his Sammy needed him, and if that meant standing up to John, then he sure as hell would do it.

 

"Dean, what is wrong with you?" Said John, in an almost acknowledging tone as he slowly turned his head to face his son whose tears were now glistening in the dark barely rimming his eyes. 

 

"It's my fault.. that he's gone.. its all my fault and I have to fix it." Dean said, trying to sound as serious and grown up as possible, so his father would take him seriously. "I left him all by himself unprotected, and something took him. its my fault Dad. and I have to find him or or-" he threw his arms up in frustration, rolling his eyes at himself, trying to make the burning tears go away.

 

He tried to think, tried to map out Indiana, to see in his head where Sam could be, as if he could magically put his finger on the map and say "There he is" with some magical magnetic pull to his brother. He wished with all his heart that he hadn't left his baby brother, he wished he would have stayed home and cuddled his Sammy while they watched a movie with is hands in his long curly hair playing around and tracing soothing circles until they both fell asleep. He longed for his little brother's skinny arms wrapped around his neck every time they hugged, he missed the way Sammy's breath felt against the crook of his neck while they slept. And all of these things flooded his mind like a wave, as he desperately tried to regain composure in front of his father. 

John took his hands off the wheel, and rubbed his face, followed by a loud sigh, as he glanced at his son who was miserably sitting against the door with his big green eyes lost in thought, sorrow and guilt. A guilt that could be seen from a thousand miles away, such a guilt that almost pained John to see in his son's expression.  "Okay" He mumbled. Oh so quietly, barely loud enough for Dean to hear it.

 

"Okay?" Dean puzzled staring at his dad as best he could through the pitch black of the night, the only thing merely shining any light on his face was the dim glow of the radio that allowed dean to make out his expression, there was something in it, something Dean had never seen before from his father. It was almost like.. like... ' _Defeat'_ Thought Dean, ' _Its defeat. thats what it is. Its him giving in to someone else's orders.'_ Dean almost beamed on the inside with pride,  but he didn't let it show, John would probably slit his throat if he merely saw the glint of pride in Dean's expression.

 

"Okay I will find Sam. But you have to stay at Bobby's, your'e too messed up right now to go anywhere" John reasoned. And he was probably right too, Dean most likely had a broken arm, a couple bruised ribs, a concussion and a black eye that was swollen shut. 

 

"Alright." Dean managed, because as much as it pained him, he really wasn't capable of helping out right now, he would probably slow his father down allowing those monsters more time with Sam.  "On one condition." he stammered, gaining a surprised look from John. 

 

"Condition?" John questioned amusingly 

 

"Yes, you leave me in a Motel, and Bobby can come and pick me up, but you have to go look for Sam. Right now." Dean demanded. And with a long sigh, John nodded in agreement as he started the car and hit the road. After a good twenty minutes, they made their way back to the motel they had previously. 

 

"Yes, he'll stay here, just... come pick him up. he's as stubborn as his mother." Dean could hear through the window as John stood outside on the phone with Bobby. Bobby was a close friend of John's and he always took care of the boys for him, or helped him out on a hunt when he needed it. Bobby had saved his life a couple times now, and the favors kept rolling in, 'Bobby can you watch the boys' or 'Bobby can you do some research' even 'I need you to pick me up' But all in all Bobby was glad to help, if not for John, then for the boys, who were as much his sons than John's. Dean was glad they had Bobby around, John may be their father, but Bobby was their Dad, Bobby taught Dean to be a normal person, taught him manners and how to cook, all of the things John would never do, because he was too busy training a soldier, to raise a son.

And Dean knew all these things, he knew that when his father drowned in  his liquor he was useless, he knew that when he was hunting something, the whole world could fall apart around him and he wouldn't care, he also knew that if Dean didn't take care of Sammy, John never would. So that's why he was so hell bent on finding his brother, because John was capable of forgetting him and leaving him to die, because he was the least of his worries, and in any case, losing Sam would be a good thing. Thinking about that tore Dean's heart to shreds, he didn't know what he would ever do if Sam left, he didn't know if he could ever live with that, but John? John wouldn't care, he would shrug his shoulders in an 'oh well' and walk away.

So Dean wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat or breathe until he found his baby brother. 'Because he's mine.' he thought. 'My baby brother, my responsibility. no one else's. Not even John's. (Especially not John's)' Dean had a fervent jealousy for his little brother, 'I raised him, not John. I taught him how to speak, not John. I taught him how to walk, and laugh, and live the normal life he'll never have. So if he belongs to anyone, its me.'  And that was the moment Dean knew, he knew Sammy belonged to him, and only him, in every sense of the word. He owed him his life the minute he was dragged out of that fire, and even if he knew it or not, all of Dean was for Sam. So dean would protect him, and take care of him. At all costs. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          Sam woke up in a dark room where he could barely see his own hand when he put it in front of his face. He was loose, except for the chain on his right ankle that gave him very limited movement around the room. Sam sat up in a flurry, the instinct to defend himself flooded him almost immediately, and he pressed his back against the nearest wall, so nothing would sneak up on him from behind. He patted his hands around like a blind man (which he technically was, in this case) and there was only the wall behind him that extended far off to his left and right. The chain didn't allow him to explore any further, so he gave it an experimental tug, and of course, it didn't budge. It simply landed back on the floor with a loud 'CLANK'

That broke the silence of the room, almost as if it was a permission for other sounds to take place, so Sam spoke.

 

"Hello?" he whispered. Allowing himself to accommodate to the way his voice sounded and echoed off the wall, he spoke again, louder this time.

 

"I - Is anyone there?!" he spoke loudly, a tremble in his voice, _'fear'_ not knowing where he was scared him, and all he wanted was his brother.

 

"DEAN!?" he yelled, his brother's name soothed him, it was like ointment to burned flesh, so he said it again.

 

"Deeann?!" he felt comforted by the sound, he knew it was the only name or word he would ever say when he was scared, or very happy. When he had nightmares, or when he needed to reassure himself he was okay. But soon the trick faded, and chanting Dean's name just made him realize, that every time he had said it before, there was a response, there was always Dean's soothing voice right after, there was always an "Shh its okay Sammy, its okay, I'm right here, your'e okay." But not this time. This time there was silence, and no Dean to hold him and tell him it was okay.

Sam started to cry, as he curled into himself, he heard the sound of the heavy chain following his ankle, as sobs shook him he closed his eyes, and tried to think of where he would like to be right now. As he dreamed of himself and Dean cuddled up somewhere nice, and warm, he dozed off and fell asleep.

Sam woke up to a bright light and the heavy metal drag of a door against the cement floor. He was immediately disoriented by the dramatic change in light, and couldn't identify the figure standing by the door. After a few seconds, the person walked up to Sam who was still hugging his knees against the wall and snapped his fingers twice in front of his face, getting him to focus on the man's face. 

He was a skinny guy, couldn't have been older than 25, he had a pale face and dark under eye bags, he looked exhausted and drained, as if he hadn't eaten for days. He held a cup full of water to Sam's face, and just nodded calmly, as if to signal it was okay for him to drink. 

 

"Drink" the guy said, voice rough as if he hadn't talked for days. Sam was distrustful of the cup, but was very thirsty, so he took it anyway. 

 

"Good, Good. Keep yourself hydrated, and you'll be okay. Promise." The guy mumbled, low and sweet, almost a whisper as if he didn't want anyone to hear.

 

"I'm Matt," He said patting Sam's shoulder and bending down to sit next to him against the wall with a grunt. "Formally been here longer than anyone, and trust me it sucks." He said with a sad smile. Sam knew that look, that was the look of someone that had been battered and beaten into submission and has given up, but still has a good heart. Sam believed that Matt couldn't have possibly been there for less than ten years, seeing how comfortable he was with the place.

 

"Sam" he said, stretching out his hand to Matt who was criss-crossed next to him now. As Matt shook his hand Sam felt two cold metal things in his grip, as he slipped his hand away he recognized it, 'two paperclips.. perfect' Sam smiled to himself. 'Thank you' he mouthed to the guy.

 

"So.. heard your'e the hunter's kid" said Matt with a worried expression on his face.

 

"Umm.. yeah. What about?" Sam questioned ruffling his eyebrows closer together.

 

"Oh, no nothing. I've just never seen so many guards out there before" He said with a wide-eyed expression, as if to signal Sam. And Sam understood and nodded once as he shifted in the uncomfortable position he was in.

  
"Yeah, well mind telling me why I'm here and what these people want from me?" said Sam in a more authoritative tone, the knowledge that his father induced fear in these people comforted him a little.

 

"No can do kiddo, don't want to get thrown in a cell like you. Gotta behave." said Matt, looking down at his hands, as if he was having a memory.

 

"Yeah, Yeah okay. Don't worry." Sam agreed, after all the guy had practically ensured his escape. All of a sudden Matt scooted closer, Sam not knowing what he wanted, scooted away. But was held in place by Matt's hand on his shoulder. 

 

"Yeah, so look.. Sam. Feeding hours are between 5 am and 6 am, at 5:30 the guards change shifts, meaning only one guard comes in and feeds you while the guard that's supposed to be backup, is gone." Matt whispered into his ear. Sam looked at him like he was crazy, was this dude actually trying to help him? With that Matt got up and walked away closing the door behind him, in a loud squeal but Sam didn't hear the lock. So as soon as the door shut, he managed to bend the paper clips and he picked at the lock until he heard a satisfying 'click' and the cuff went loose around his ankle, which was already beginning to bruise. Slipping his ankle free, he got up and tip-toed quietly to the door, creaking it ever so slightly, so he could see outside. There were two men sitting in front of his cell playing cards, he noticed one of them had a gun, to his left side 'perfect' Sam thought. He put his ear to the crack and listened closely.

 

He heard bits of "has to be fed soon.. " and "Changing, call [..]  okay got it"  As he looked back through the hole, he saw one of the two guards get up, 'must be getting my food' he thought. So he formulated a plan, grabbing the chain, he brought it close to the door to its left, where it opened, and sat there pretending to be still chained, he sat for something that felt like an hour, maybe two. 

 

'CREAK' 

The door was opened, and as soon as the guard walked in, he shut the door behind him. But he hadn't turned on the light, so Sam took this moment and pounced the guy, taking his gun and hitting him harshly on the back of the head. Sam caught the plate before it hit the floor, but the guard landed on the floor with a loud 'thump', Sam hoped it wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear, but he had to move quickly, or the guard would come back.

As soon as he grabbed the gun, he flicked on the light and examined it, It wasn't too complicated, besides, his father had taught him how to use one on his sixth birthday, and ever since that day he carried a butterfly knife of his own to school, a white one that Dean had gotten him, with the word "Sammy" engraved on it.Dean had one of his own, and Sam had always wanted one, he practically begged for it every week. He took the safety off, and shoved it in the back of his pants, as he crouched down to see if the guy had any other weapons that could be useful, but nothing was found.

He walked to the door, creaking it slowly, just in case, but no one was there, so he looked to both sides, but all he could see was a long hallway, almost as if he were in some kind of abandoned hospital.As he walked out, he decided his best bet was to go right, so he did and he ran down but found himself with another turn, simply as if he were in some kind of maze.

Seven right's and twelve left's later, Sam found the fire escape, He was in a room, as rusty and dirty as all the others, with a window, that was nailed to the boards below it. With the handle of the gun, he broke the glass, but realized he had to act quickly, that sound was sure to alarm and inform any guards of his escape, so he leaped through as best he could and landed on the metal staircase. Looking down he sad he couldn't have been any lower than 6 stories up, and he could already hear loud footsteps and men yelling, so he ran down as fast as he could. 

When he reached the bottom, he noticed that there were no more men yelling and running after him. It was quiet.. too quiet. And all of a sudden.

 

"Where do you think you're going boy?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of Dean and John's argument, did Sam make a successful escape?

          Dean has been sitting in the motel room for about three hours now, John said Bobby was coming, but Sioux Falls is an eleven hour drive from Indiana, and there is no way Dean is waiting that long. He gets up from the small bed he was sitting on and limps his way to the bathroom, as soon as he flicks on the light, he sees it. His face is all battered up and bruised, the skin over his ribs mottled in purple and red, bottom lip busted, and a black swollen eye. 'Yeah... I'm not getting anywhere soon' he sighs, as he looks away from the mirror.

"God, i wish i had never gone to that stupid house in the first place, it wasn't even half worth it! If.. if i could just have known.." his eyes brimmed with tears that burned in his eyes, throat swelling, his heart clenching with the still constant pain, physical and emotional. Losing Sam in real life was so much worse than in his nightmares, the ones he had constantly, knowing how much evil was out there, he knew that they could take Sam. Dean dreamt every other night that a monster took Sam, and in those dreams, he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't run, or scream, or cry, he was just stuck, paralyzed in horror by the invisible force in his mind that was holding him back.

When he had those dreams, he was always soothed by his baby brother's presence as soon as he woke up sweating in the middle of the night. He would wake up panting, and struggling to catch his breath as Sam laid perfectly still and beautiful curled up into his chest, right under his chin. Dean would run his hand down the curvature of his spine, the heat of his little body and the hot little shallow breaths against the crook of his neck reassuring him that he was okay, that he was right there, with him that he hadn't disappeared. And Dean would spend hours, if not, the rest of the night caressing his little brother, carding his fingers through his hair, planting soft barely-there kisses to his scalp, and forehead gentle enough as to not wake him.

And Dean would lie there, with his sleeping little brother, memorizing every little mole and curve of his face and skinny lanky long body wrapped perfectly around his, he would count how many times his little eyes shuffled in his sleep, a sign that he was dreaming, he would watch as his little mouth curled up into a tiny smile whenever he had a nice dream, or when his eyebrows would knit together if he was about to have a nightmare. And Dean watched and observed and silently loved every single little thing that made up Sam, his Sam. And it would warm his heart so much he would have to take deep breaths because Sam's beauty just blew him away. 

But right now, Sam was lost, and all alone, god knows where, probably scared half to death, most likely calling Dean's name. Every time Sam was scared, he would call Dean, every time he had a nightmare, he would reach out for Dean, every time he fell and scraped his knee or got hurt, he would cry for Dean. And Dean loved it when Sam called for him, he felt like he was his hero in some kind of way. Dean knew exactly what was going on in Sams little head just by the way his voice sounded when he said Dean's name, he had memorized every single "Dean!" that came out of Sammy's mouth, the ones that were filled with fear, and made his voice tremble, the ones that were filled with little-brother annoyance and stubbornness, the ones that were happy, and vibrant and made Dean's heart flutter. He knew the way his own name sounded on Sam's lips, and he also remembers it was Sam's first word. He remembers when two year-old Sammy ran after him and while tugging on the hem of his shirt, he said "Bean! Been!" Dean chuckled at that, and corrected him. "Dean, say DEE - ANN" and for one second he looked confused, but then something clicked in that small little brain of his, and he finally got it, " Dee! Deen! Dean!"

The silliest grin was plastered on Dean's face as the memory flashed by, but was soon wiped off by reality, he had to do something, he really did. 'But what?' he paced shuffling in circles by the bed, his shoulders tense, and his hands in fists, his nails digging into his palms, creating crescent shaped bruises that were sure to last. Finally he decided to pick up the phone, and call John, just to see if he had any leads as to where Sam could be, but there was no reply.

"Dad its Dean, call me back, I need to know what happened to Sam. please. pick up the phone" 

Dean eventually got restless of sitting in silence and wringing his hands together, so he decided to take a walk, clear his mind and maybe think of a way to find his baby brother.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

          "W- what?" Sam spun around as soon as he heard the voice from behind him. He was in an alley, the fire escape led to the back of the building and it was closed off by a brick wall behind him, the man standing in front of him was blocking the only way out.  The sun was starting to rise, and it couldn't have been more than six in the morning, the shadow of the buildings beside him covered the man's face and it wasn't very clear.

 

"Wh- who are you?" Sam questioned, his right hand creeping slowly to the back of his pants where he placed the guard's gun.

 

"Oh trust me.. you don't want to know." the man said with an audible smile, his voice rough and deep.

 

"What d-do you want fro- mme?" Sams voice quivered as he began to take a small step back, his fingers could barely brush the metal of the gun's handle without making it noticeable.

 

"Oh no no, I don't want anything _from_ you boy, I only want YOU." The man said, taking a step forward copying Sam's movement, closing the space between them very gradually.

 

"What do you m-mean?" Sam questioned, eyeing the mans feet, and shoulders. He was big, not bigger than John, but definitely bigger than him, around a half-foot taller than Dean, 'Possibly five foot eleven' Sam calculated, thinking to himself in an attempt to calm his nerves. As his mind shuffled to find a way out, the man took two long strides towards him, closing the space between them in a sudden movement, pinning Sam to the wall behind him. In half a second Sam's mind registered that the man was going to press harder, not letting him reach for his gun so he ripped it out of his pants, wrist getting scraped and bloody compressed by the cement and bricks Sam's body was slammed against plus the man's added weight.

He managed to slip both the gun and wrist from behind himself and quickly placed the tip of the gun barely touching the man's chin, with his right hand and his left holding the man's right shoulder making sure he wouldn't attempt to take the gun from him.

 

"Get back." Said Sam in an assertive tone, nothing like the trembling boy that had just been stuttering to get the words out of his mouth. 

 

"Woah there big boy, calm down." Said the man, taking three short steps back, both hands slowly raising beside his face, eyes flicking between Sam's face and the gun. Calculating. Counting.

And in the blink of an eye the man's right hand came down faster than Sam's brain could think to pull the trigger and he swatted the gun from the hold of his much smaller hand, coming quick with both hands to pin Sam's arms above his head earning a surprisingly loud yelp from Sam. Sam was startled, everything had happened so fast, he had control of the situation and in a blink he was unarmed and pinned to the wall by a much older grown man. Tears were building in his eyes, he felt defenseless, hopeless, lost, he needed his brother, and there was no one that could help him. The man's hands were so big and heavy holding him down were sure to leave bruises in his arms. 

 

"Awwh, look at that. Big boy thinks he's so smart, with his gun huh? Well not anymore kid." The man chuckled, breathing heavy into Sam's face. He smelled of liquor and cigars. He looked like the type of man who would sit at a bar for hours and stare at women or little boys just like Sam.

 

"You get away from me! Y- you Pervert!" Sam yelled, voice stuttering. He had been aiming for more threatening tone, but it came out as a whimper.

 

"Now that's not nice, what's such a pretty boy like you doing with words like those?" The man said, grabbing both of Sam's wrists with his right hand, his left coming down to caress Sam's cheek and jawbone. Now that the sun was hitting the man's face, Sam could clearly see every detail of it, especially from his angle, almost under the man but facing him.

The man had deep hazel eyes, the kind that changed colors when the sun would hit them in a different direction, his jawline was sharp and angular, lips narrow and chapped, unlike Dean's whose were plump and perfectly rounded under, his cupids bow perfectly v'd at the center under his nose, and a nice round arch over the top, Sam had memorized their shape, because he had never seen anyone with lips like Dean's 'so plump, and full and.. STOP THINKING, NOT NOW' . The guy was pretty built, muscles defined under his shirt, Sam could tell they were fighting muscles, not the type made at the gym for showing off, also by his strong grip, Sam could tell he had done this before.

 

"Let Me GO!" Sam continued to struggle under the man's firm hold, but there was no way out, he also knew the men inside would notice he was gone, and would soon be coming to get him, lessening his chances of escape. He felt the tears fall freely from his eyes now as his wrist burned under the man's fingers.

 

"No no no, baby don't cry! Your beautiful little face is turning all red." He said while he caressed Sam's cheek wiping the tears away. His hand moved down his neck, to the dip of his collar, tracing the bone there in a soft almost petting motion. 

 

"Stop TOUCHING ME you disGUSTING Fa-" Sam's words were cut off when the man was suddenly thrown off of Sam with such force, it almost took him with it. Sam collapsed to the ground, the weight of the man not holding him anymore. He had been suspended against the wall with so much force, his legs forgot how to do their job properly. As soon as his knees hit the ground, he heard the man slam into the wall to his left. When his eyes focused on what was happening in front of him, all the realization in the world hit him at once.

 

"DAD!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did consider making Dean the hero in this chapter, but we have to remember that he still is Ten years old. sorry if that upset anyone :/ Con-crit is VERY welcome, and Comments are the lifeline of this story, keep em coming!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wants to teach Dean a lesson, but at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super excited to finally post this chapter, especially because of all the imagery it includes :) this chap. was a real struggle, but i hope you guys enjoy the twist!  
> 360° pictures of the abandoned hospital.  
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> Back Alley:  
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> Hallways of the hospital:  
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          John left Dean at the motel, barely conscious and struggling to breathe, dropping him on the bed with a grunt as he reminded Dean of all the things he had to do, trying to ignore how the boy was acting.

"Don't go anywhere, lock the door, fix the salt line, and watch out for- ...Bobby, he's coming to pick you up" John repeated.

His orders were just like every time he left Dean alone, but this time he almost slipped, almost told Dean to protect his baby brother, reminding him with an unintentional blow that it was his fault Sam was gone. He saw Dean wince and flinch at his slip-up of words, and all he was met with was a broken, half-muttered "okay" into the pillow the boy was white-knuckling in an attempt to not let John see his miserable sobs.

John knew part of it was his fault, heck- it was _ **all**_ his fault, for not being able to raise his kids in a home like everyone else, not being able to pack the rage inside him and turn it into grief, like everyone else. But they weren't like everybody else, they never would be, John knew that, and sometimes it affected him, sometimes he would let it sink in and break him apart, realization falling like lead into the pit of his stomach. When it did however, he drowned it out with liquor and bullets, hunts and monsters he would continue to viciously stab, long after they were dead. He knew he couldn't afford to be weakened by the thoughts of his boys, or anything else really, because he had to be strong, for Mary, to kill the thing that ruined his family. So he wore a mask, not that of a father's but of a sergeant, a man who hated weaknesses, and expected highly of his sons, even if they were just feeble children.

That was the only way he could justify his actions and the way he treated them. He acted as if it had nothing to do with the fact that he was drowning in his own rage, and was completely incapable of raising his children. He was simply hand-feeding all that revenge and sorrow to his kin so they would grow up to be hunters, to 'fight for the cause', because if he couldn't raise sons, he would make soldiers, and soldiers don't cry.  

' _That boy deserves ten times worse than what I gave him_ '  he mumbled just loud enough for Dean to hear, not waiting for a reaction as he walked out of the room, definitely expecting one however, observing the fact that Dean had been acting so childish and immature in the past few hours.

He didn't listen to his father's orders, deliberately disobeyed and walked out the door when John had told him not to. Besides the fact that he could have gotten himself or Sam killed, he was angrier at the fact that he couldn't control his son. What was he going to do with a boy who didn't obey his father? What kind of hunter would he grow up to be? He was too emotionally attached to Sam, he couldn’t do anything more than sit there and sob over it all being his fault! But if John couldn't _beat_ the strength into him, he would do something that would hurt him more than all of his skin ripped from his bones alive. Dean was going to learn to be strong, and if it had to be the hard way, so be it. Because a hunter couldn't be afford to be soft, they weren't allowed that luxury, and John was going to turn this into a lesson, He was going to teach Dean to become unattached, even if that meant he wouldn't see his little brother until he did.

***

In a couple of hours John had four hunters he had found in the area helping him find Sam, the only reason they _were_  helping him however, was because they owed him. John had gone on a hunt 6 months back, and he never really paired with hunters, but there was a nest of about 50 vampires that John definitely could take out by himself, but chose not to. So he called in for backup, but they ended up falling for a trap and John had to kill every vampire himself and save the other hunter's asses, so yeah... they definitely owed him one.

Two of them were searching all the black-markets in the area for kidnapped boys around Sam's age, flipping all of the tables and looking under every rock. And the other two were out searching where Sam had gone missing, trying to see if the tracks led them to find him. Because no one messed with the Winchester's kid and got away with it, at least not alive. 

Within the hour John had two addressees, four names, and a son to find.

 

"We've got 900 Madison St, Gary, INDIANA, all the way up north, almost Chicago, or 5460 E High School Rd, Butlerville, all the way south. Each one's a two hour's way from here, one to the northernmost part and the other is all the way south." Said Joe, one of the hunters John was working with.

One was an abandonedcity hall / service center that was once a hospital up north, and the other was an abandoned elementary and high school side by side.

 

"'bout two hours of a drive huh?" John said.

 

"Maybe one if you really put your foot on it," Said Joe,

 

John was willing to bet he could make it in 40.

 

Dean had said that Sam dissapeared somewhere around 7 pm, meaning that if he was taken around that time, it would give them the chance to be all the way across Indiana by now, probably even in another state. But John figured that they wouldn't attempt crossing state lines with a smuggled child, especially not Sam, who could put up one hell of a fight, and John knew he could. 

The hospital was in Gary IN, everyone knew that city for being desolated and abandoned, blocks of empty buildings all brought down over time and reclaimed by Mother Nature. The High school was surrounded by houses and playgrounds, smack- in the middle of Butlerville, right off the highway. It would be pretty hard to smuggle a child into one of those buildings, even at midnight, all the houses around it weren't that old either, and people probably lived right next to it. The hospital however was a massive building abandoned since the 70's and had a loading garage large enough to safely cover anything that could be happening. It was planted right alongside the train rails giving it considerable space from all of the nearby places. The surrounding area was also pretty desolate, there was only an animal shelter next to it (another large building with no actual civilians residing in it) and the rest of the street had no homes on it.

John decided to go with his gut on this one, so he chose to split up, himself andtwoof the hunters would go to the hospital, and the othertwohunters would go clear the high school in Butlerville (just in case). 

***

When they arrived at the hospital, it was around 5:30 am, the sun wasn't out yet, but it was threatening to peer out from the east, behind the small cluster of buildings to their right. They parked the Impala two blocks from the entrance, so as to not raise any suspicion and sat in the car for a good twenty minutes, trying to observe if there was any movement inside, or sign of life. About fifteen minutes in, they heard the distinct shatter of a window and people, men- yelling. Immediately they made their way out of the car, over the rails and around the backside, the two hunters went to the left side, near the front of the building, while John followed the train lines to the back of it, where there was noise, people speaking and one of them sounded just like- 

'Oh No'

As soon as John circled the smaller building to the right that was covering the back, creating a perfect alley, he saw them. An older man, perhaps in his thirties, pinning Sam to the wall, ignoring his cries for help and telling him to let him go. 

In one swift motion John ripped the man off of Sam, throwing him back against the wall pf the building with such force, that he bounced off it and landed flat on his face. While the man was struggling to get back on his feet, John risked a glance to Sam, who was kneeling on the floor right where the man had him held up. He looked confused and hurt, and all of a sudden all of his instincts kicked back in, his eyes flew from the man, to the gun on the floor to his right, and bounced back to his father, locking onto his eyes. For one second John saw the slight disappointment flash in Sam's eyes when he did not see his brother, but then relief overflowed him in a forceful crash.

 

"DAD!" Sam cried out. But his tone wasn't of surprise, or happiness to see his father, it was loud, warning, a "be careful!" if he ever heard one. 

By the tone in his voice, he didn't even have to look to realize he wasn't alone. He moved slowly, turning his head to the right, there were two men, each one with their respective guns. And thats when he caught a glimpse, Joe and Harriett sneaked up on them so quietly, that the only realized they were there when it was too late, by the cocking of their guns pressed against the napes of their necks.

 

"Put them down" Said Harriett, one of the hunters that had accompanied John and Joe to the hospital.

The men obliged slowly bringing their guns down to the floor, as soon as they had done so, Joe and Harriett slammed them in the back of the head with the handle of their guns, proceeding to leave them unconscious.  John turned back to the man that originally had Sam pinned against the wall, and with a smirk, did the same. 

  
  
"Dad! gosh you found me! how-" Sam started, but was cut off by the foul look on his father's face.

 

"Wh- whats wrong?" he poised, a questioning look on his face. All of a sudden panic started setting in, realizing that Dean wasn't here with his father, and maybe something had happened to him. 

 

"Dad?! Where's Dean?" Sam quickly jumped, from his position on the floor. 'Perfect' thought John, and made the guiltiest look he could muster while looking at his hands.  

 

"Dean's gone." John mumbled, not too loud, afraid that his voice might give away the truth. 'This is going to work' he thought, 'I'm going to fix Dean'.

 

"Whaddya mean he's gone?" Sam stammered quizzically, tears beginning to sting in his eyes. Had Dean left him? Did Dean decide to stay with that girl? Dad would nev- 'Oh my god..' What if Dean had come back to the Motel and didn't find him? What did Dean do? What if he went to look for Sam and someone had taken him? or worse! Murd-... No.. he couldn't think about that. Dean was strong, and he knew how to use a gun, he never left without it, so h-

 

"He's gone Sammy." John said, sparing a glance to the other hunters listening in confusion, signaling for them to take the men and wait for him. Sam flinched at the use of his nickname, only Dean ever used that name, John never called him that. 

 

"Let's go Sam," John said, extending an arm to him so he would follow.

 

"No, wai- Wait!" Sam said, his breath hitching in his throat, heart pumping twice as fast and his mind going at a hundred miles per hour, trying to think of all the possibilities and reasons for which Dean could have left, or dissapeared. 

 

"Dad you have to tell me. What happened?" Sam insisted, and with a long sigh John bent down next to him and began. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby takes Dean home, what does John tell Sam?

          Bobby had made it to the motel in eight hours, arriving at Dean's at six - o - clock. John had called him and told him the plan, Bobby expressively disagreed with John, telling him all the screwed up ways he was going to pay for what he was about to do, but he agreed to help anyways. As soon as he got to the room and told Dean to pack up all his things, he was obviously met with resistance from Dean's part.

 

"Hell no I'm not leaving! I'm going to be here when Sammy comes back!" Dean protested

 

"If" Bobby muttered.

 

"What!?" Dean yelled, clearly not having heard what Bobby had said, and if he had, he definitely didn't want to believe Bobby had just said that.

 

"IF BOY IF! IF SAM COMES BACK! You have some kind of blind faith that he's going to come back, but you don't know SHIT BOY! You don't know if your father's gon' find him, much less if he's even alive! SO IF! SAM COMES BACK. Not when." Bobby yelled back, in no way actually angry at Dean for believing that Sam was going to come back, but angry at John, for pulling such a stupid plan and lying straight to his boy's faces. And even angrier at the fact that John had to drag him into this whole shit show too! Bobby hated lying to the boys, especially Dean, they were just like his own sons too, and even though he hated this whole thing, he had to do it, at least play along for them, so they wouldn't realize what a lying asshole John Winchester really was. 

The look on Dean's face when he finished saying all that, resembled almost as if he had been smacked dead across the face. It was a look of pain, of betrayal. 

 

"Bobby, wha- how could you SAY THAT!? O- out of ALL people Bobby I -I thought you wouldn't give up on him, bu- but you did!" Dean said as he stared incredulously at Bobby.

 

"I -I would expect this of John, but YOU!? You’re like my real dad Bobby!? i- if I had faith in ANYONE! To not give up on Sam, it would have been you Bobby!" He yelled, tears actively making their way down his cheek turning his face red and flustered.

 

"I can't believe this." Dean mumbled to himself as he sat back down at the edge of the rusty motel bed that he and Sam had been sharing for about two months now. The sheets still messy from the day before where Dean had woken up to Sam asleep on his right arm, drooling all over the place. Dean clutched the sheets as he heard Bobby intake a long breath to begin speaking again.

 

"I'm not giving up Dean; I'm just being realistic okay? Sam could be anywhere right now, states away, and god knows if he's even okay! Right now, you can’t do anything but sit here and wait for John to find him, you need sleep and food and for god's sakes you have to go to school Dean!" Bobby stammered

 

"I know you don't feel like doing anything but looking for your brother right now, but you're no use to him if you're half dead kid!" Bobby continued, pointing out the bruises and scars on Dean trying to reason with him. All of a sudden really angry all over again at John for doing this to his own son. 

 

"I guess m'pretty tired" he muttered weakly. Allowing Bobby to pick up his bags and put them in the back of the truck, with one last glance over the room Bobby slung one arm over Dean's shoulder.

 

"Let’s go kiddo" Bobby said, as he helped Dean to his feet. And just as they were about to leave the room Dean jumped up

 

"Oh! Wait!" He quickly said as he slipped from Bobby's hold, limping his way back to the bed. He grabbed the pillow they had shared the day before, tucked it under his arm and made his way to the truck.

 

"So you a pillow smuggler now kid?" Bobby said with a smirk as Dean climbed into the passenger seat.

 

"Mm.. I guess so." He replied as he placed the pillow against the window leaning into it to breathe Sammy's scent one last time. 

Clutching Sammy's bracelet and closing his eyes, he was asleep before Bobby even made it to the highway.

 

***

 **"Dad you have to tell me. What happened?"**  

 

"When Dean got back from the party, and he didn't find you there, he called me, frantic, talking about how you had vanished on his watch. I told him to stay inside and wait for me, but he didn't listen so he went out to look for you." John said, and that part was completely true, Dean had disobeyed and left, then John had found him and beat the living shit out of him, but Sam didn't need to know that of course.

 

"When I got back... he was gone, and I figured that maybe the same people that took you, had got him too. But we didn't find him anywhere." John lied.

 

Sam's expression visibly sunk, the light in his eyes went completely dark and tears were now brimming his already puffy eyes. 'Dean's gone because of me..' he thought. 'Because of me' he mused in his head, over and over again. He let himself follow John to the Impala, expression completely iced, if John didn't know any better, he would think Sam didn't feel anything. But he was merely mirroring what he saw his father do over and over again, replace his pain with an unfazed expression. 

John made Harriett take Sam to the motel, pick up his things and take him to a hunter that could take care of him, called Bill.

 

"He lives in Nebraska, we’re gonna go pick up your stuff from the motel, and then we'll head to Bill's house, okay sweetheart?" Said Harriett on their way back to the motel. Sam only grunted in response and only spoke again once they reached the room.

 

" _thpillsgon_ " Harriett heard Sam say while she stuffed his duffel with the clothes in the drawers.

 

"What honey?" She asked

 

"The pillow. It's gone." He stated, as he stood in front of the bed

 

"w- well maybe room service took it darlin'" she replied quickly, panic setting in. She hadn't thought of a good cover story, she thought she didn't have to because John had told him everything. Maybe the eldest Winchester boy took the pillow, maybe it was a sign. 

 

"N- no.. the room is a mess." Sam pointed out, spinning in a full circle to observe if anything else was missing. 

 

"Dean's clothes are gone. All his things too." he said as he frantically jumped from where he was standing to search the drawers and under the bed.

 

"His duffel's gone." he panted, once he finished rummaging through all of his stuff.

 

"I thought you said he went missing" he said, staring accusingly at Harriett.

 

"No idea sweetcakes, maybe your dad took it." she said, trying to keep her voice as un-suspicious as possible.

 

"But why would he take Dean's clothes and not mine?" he questioned again. Harriett sighed, 'he's asking too many questions I don't know the right answer to.'

 

"Baby here" she said while handing dean her phone "why don't you call your daddy and ask him, m'sure he knows more than I do." she offered with a smile.

 

"Thanks" he mumbled, as he plugged in Johns number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four-

 

"You've reached John Winchester, Call again another time. -Beep-" The voice came from the phone.

 

"Dad, its Sam, call me." Sam sighed, as he hung up, handing Harriett her phone back. She had an almost apologetic look on her face as they climbed into her truck that was parked in the motel's driveway, leaving the Impala neatly parked at the front.

 ***

 By the time Dean had reached Bobby's house, it was already around 2 pm, and he had slept the whole way there. 

 

"Rise and shine princess" Bobby announced as he drove into the garage where he kept all of his junk cars. 

 

"Mmph" Dean groaned as he peeked through his eyelashes, vision still a bit blurry but a whole lot better, his bones felt a little more relaxed too thanks to the nap, but his neck was killing him, eight hours in the same position wasn't very beneficial.

He dragged himself out of the truck, and let Bobby carry his duffel, his arms hurt too badly to be carrying things yet, but the grip he had on Sammy's pillow wasn't getting any looser. As soon as he made it inside, he walked straight to the bed under the window next to Bobby's office, he threw himself on it, landing on his stomach, placing the pillow under his head automatically. After what felt like hours, but was probably no more than ten minutes, Bobby offered him a bag of iced peas to put on that swollen eye he still had. As he sat up and leaned back against the window pressing the bag to his face, he asked.

 

"Hey Bobby?" Dean muttered, so low that he wasn't sure Bobby had heard him

 

"Yeah kid?" Bobby responded, looking up from the book he was reading in his chair at the table that was stacked and pouring over (literally) with old scriptures, books and loose pages.

 

"Do you think i'll ever see Sammy again?" He said, with a pained expression as he looked at Bobby dead in the eyes, searching for truth, honesty.

 

"Of course you will kid, don't be such a downer, your father is John Winchester for Christ's sakes, Your daddy'll bring him home." It was a lie that not even Bobby himself could believe, even if he tried. And that seemed to placate Dean, because once he heard those words, he gave Bobby a weak smile and fell asleep. He didn't wake up until seven later that evening.

***

"Hi I'm Ellen, and this is my daughter Joanna Beth, _sweetie say hi_ " Said the lady that opened the door to Sam when he arrived in Nebraska. She was a pretty woman, in her late thirties, and by her side (well more like behind her gripping her thigh) was a little girl, who looked a few years younger than Sam.

 

"Hey, I'm Sam" He said, as he attempted a smile, that felt a little lopsided on his lips, but it was the best he could do at the moment. 

 

"Well come in Sam," Ellen offered while stepping aside so he could come in. She had a few words with Harriett at the door, and thanked her for bringing Sam and a few other things Sam couldn't hear because they were whispering. As soon as he went in, there was a man sitting at the counter of the table, just visible from where Sam was standing. 'I'm guessing that's Bill' he thought, as Ellen stepped back inside. She hauled Johanna into her arms and set her on her left hip, bringing her right hand down and placing it on Sam's back, protective, like that of a mother's. 

 

"This is my husband William, but you can call him Bill" she said while guiding Sam into the small wooden kitchen the whole family shared. Bill waved hello from where he was sitting, his mouth full of a sandwich he was currently devouring, but his lips curled into a smile anyway despite the cheek-full face he had making him look a little silly. Joanna saw his face and gave a loud giggle "Daddy! your moufs full!" she laughed. 'that little girl definitely has the most amusing laugh' he thought to himself as he giggled a bit himself, lowering his glance to the floor. 

Long wooden planks were beneath his feet, and they creaked with every step they took.

 

"So Sam, we've been expecting you! would you like to see your new room for the time being?" Asked Ellen in a very bright happy tone, too happy for the state Sam was in, but he obliged anyway nodding 'yes'

As they walked down the hallway, Ellen led him into a small room that was just big enough for a twin bed, a small closet, and a tiny blue table that had all kinds of crayons and different sizes of paper on it. The sheets of the bed were an egg-shell white and were neatly folded in a way Sam had only ever seen in really expensive-looking commercials. The closet door had a long mirror reaching from the top of the door almost to the floor, and there was a big round brick-red carpet covering most of the flooring.

 

"I'm guessing your'e tired?" she asked, studying his expression.

 

"Yeah a bit, s'it okay if i take a nap for a while?" Sam asked, and even though sleeping was the last thing he wanted to do, he desperately wanted to be alone, he had been holding the tears since Gary IN. And he just felt like sulking over his brother for a while.

 

"Sure thing dear! Just holler if you need anything, we'll be down the hall." she said sweetly, turning around to walk out the bedroom door and leave Sam to himself.

 

"Thanks" he mumbled, as she left. 

 

As he crawled onto the small bed that was cold and empty, he remembered how just the night before Dean had been right there under him, holding him close. And oh what he would do now to have his brother near him again. Finally through all of his tears and hiccuping sobs he fell to a dreamless sleep as he clutched onto himself praying to anything that he would get to see Dean one more time.

 

"Just one more time"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys weren't expecting two chapters in the same day, but how exciting right!?!  
> I got carried away and decided to keep writing for youuu <3  
> I hope you like the twist this whole thing is giving, and I'm SORRY hahaha, we need some angst ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam stays at the Harvelles, and Dean stays with Bobby and John makes an unpleasant discovery.

-Back at the Hospital-

 

Once John found Sam, he told Harriett to take the Impala, drive Sam to the motel, pick up his things and head for Bill's "And I swear Harry, if anything happens to my boy" He made sure, before he sent them on their way. He phoned Bobby to make sure they weren't there anymore and his mind was put a bit at ease, but not so much, especially not with the knowledge of what he would be doing to his son's, much less imagining what on earth would happen if they found out. Joe made sure to call Weiss and Frank from the high school they were scoping down in Butlerville, and brought them in for backup, because honestly... they weren't sure how much they would need. The hospital was massive, there were hundreds of places people could be hiding, and since John didn't know how many more sick pedophilic sons-of-bitches they were going to find in there, he chose to wait.

The second wall that Sam had been surrounded by was parallel to that one of the buildings, it belonged to a small warehouse absolutely packed with rusty supplies, blankets, sterile needles, IV tubing, wheelchairs and more… anything you would expect to find in a normal hospital warehouse, just… ten years older and covered in a two maybe _three_ \- inch coat of dust. John and Joe knocked out the men that had attacked Sam, and tied their wrists and ankles, anchoring them to a couple of chairs that they found in the too-small warehouse that was at their service - _temporarily- ._  They had to move quickly though, the people inside ( _if_ there were any) would be worried about them by now.

They had no action plan, just simply walk in, guns blazing, take as many culprits as you can find, and Don’t. Die. What they did find however, was absolutely **not** on the list of what John had been expecting.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
-Bill's-

  
          Sam woke up somewhere around six am, still fully clothed, and breath sour, sweating, skinny limbs tangled in sheets he knew he didn't put there, hair sticking to his forehead and beads of sweat painfully tickling their way down his face. Once he managed to sit up on his elbows he tried steadying himself, still unsure as of _why_ he had woken up in such a frenzy, until all the blood rushed to his head with the motion. He was met with a agonizing blow of nausea, his first instinct was to run to the nearest bathroom and heave until he was sure he had no more guts, but he managed to keep it inside, he was sure that Ellen and Bill were still sleeping, and he didn't want to alarm anyone, at least not at this time in the morning.

He sat up on his bed and dropped his head into his hands, ' _God that really hurt what the hell even happened?'_ he asked himself, but he _really_  wished he hadn't because it all came back in an agonizing wave of fear, loneliness, darkness, then _'oh god DEAN!'_  -it continued- shock, guilt, sorrow, _Anger_. Dean was gone, more importantly, it was _his_ fault Dean was gone… He let the seconds tick by, silence searing into his mind, reality slowly settling in like a bottle of sappy liquid poured into a cup, and now he really wished he had someone-some _thing_ to hold onto, to anchor him to reality, to settle his emotions, to get the incessant banter of 'DeanDeanDeanDeanohmygod-whathaveIdone?DEAN!' out of his head. He wanted to punch something, _someone!_ or cry, yeah cry until his tears drowned him, in the end, he settled for silently sobbing into the palms of his hands, heels digging into his eyes, and he sat there for what felt like an hour, until he smelled it, the overwhelming and all of a sudden almost _enticing_ aroma of coffee, bacon, bread ' _are those biscuits?'_. Just as his stomach made an interested growl at the smell, memories came flooding back into his head,

-Dean in a ratty motel room at ten in the morning on a weekend, letting little Sammy sleep in, because Dad wasn't back, and there was no school, standing over the small kitchen with what was surely a Dollar store bought biscuit in the microwave that he probably burned, warm for when Sam woke up, making sure he had anything to eat before grabbing anything for himself-

And Sam could swear that in that second all of his meek ideas of ever putting food back into his body repulsed him. As he bent forward ever so slightly to clutch at his aching and not-so-quiet stomach, he was softly restrained by the tug of sheets that he had knotted around himself in a hasty attempt at waking up. And he remembered, 'I didn't actually _get_ into bed last night.' He managed to throw his legs off the side of the bed and slip down, then he realized. He was in his socks, all of his stuff was gone, no not gone, put away. Neatly packed into drawers, clothes folded on top of each other, shirts hung in the closet that was left half- open, right beside his bed, shoes perfectly stacked on a rack just for him, his duffel folded and slid underneath the blue table, and the knife dad gave him- his knife by the nightstand next to him.

He had gone to sleep early last night, hadn't bothered to put anything away, just threw his stuff on the floor and went to sleep. 'oh Ellen' he thought. In the middle of the night she must have come in while he was sleeping, taken his shoes off, tucked him in, put his clothes away, made sure he was taken care of.

Safe.

His stomach churned at the thought. Dean was the only one that kept him safe, he was the one who made sure he was well fed, well cared for, got to school on time, had his wounds cleaned, his clothes packed, and tucked into bed. Every day, Every night, ever since Sam had memory. This was Dean's, his safety and protection belonged to Dean, no one else had ever done this for him- no one had ever _taken_ Dean's right to protect him. But Dean was gone, and his immediate anger left him as fast as it came, dawning on him with more than one bone-wracking, lonely realization.

Dean was gone, and Sam couldn't take care of himself, so someone else had mustered up the time to do the job, of course John hadn't, of course his Blood, FATHER hadn't tried to care for him. 'Dad is looking for Dean' and that's all it took for any resentment to leave his thoughts. But then, John was out to find Dean, and Dad and Dean were the only family Sam ever had, other than maybe Uncle Bobby, who wasn't really an 'uncle' but he was the closest thing to it, so who had to take care of Sam? some random hunter he had never met, and Sam was sure that the only reason he had accepted was because he owed John a favor, 'You don’t deserve this, not these people's time, food, much less take their happiness, they're doing you a _favor_ , you owe them, not the other way around.' so with that he got down, shucked his shoes on, and made his way out the door and down the hallway, making a great effort to not keen over and throw up, and made it to the kitchen.

"Good morning Mrs. Harvelle." He said, at least hoping _she_  was having a better morning than he was. 

"Morning sunshine, and please honey, call me Ellen." She beamed, but dulled as soon as she caught a glimpse of him from her position in the kitchen, he wondered if he looked how he felt, in that case, she had every right to give him a look.

"Okay," he mumbled, taking seat at one of the stools near the counter. 

"How are you feeling this morning hun? Good?" she asked him, He hummed agreeingly, because he honestly didn't know what to say, ' _how do I feel? I don't know, maybe like my BROTHER has just disappeared because of me'_  but he didn't vocalize his thoughts, doesn't think he could if he tried, he would probably break down before even beginning the sentence, and just as if on cue, there was a loud cry from one of the rooms down the hall.

"Jo, she woke up" Ellen replied quickly with a smile, getting up and making her way out of the kitchen and into the hallway, leaving the sizzling bacon unguarded as the oil popped from the pan, landing in hot blotches on the counter beside it. The smell of coffee was strong, so much that it filtered through the walls and reached the nose of the dormant in an enticing dance of aroma, it was almost beautiful.

He saw the coffee pot boiling on the red-hot stove, and now that he really got a good look at the kitchen, he could tell that it was old, aged beyond the time these people had lived. Maybe they moved around a lot, like Sam did, or maybe they had lived here their whole lives, maybe it used to be their ancestors, maybe.. Maybe.. Maybe… and it hit Sam, it really did. He didn't know these people, and they didn’t know him, he was here why? Because some hunter owed John a favor? Out of the goodness in their hearts? It clobbered Sam low in the gut, with a pang of guilt and self-depreciation. Because these were nice people, they had a nice family, they had built a life, one that Sam never had experienced and Sam just walked in here, he was offered a bed, a room, food, shelter, safety, and trust, like he owned something, like he was a _part_ of this family he had just met. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Ellen, again, walking down the hallway and back into the kitchen, this time, with a child in her arms.

"Say hi to Sam Jo honey," She whispered to the toddler that was curled against her neck,

Her skinny little were legs curled around her hip in almost a possessive manner, it almost drew a laugh out of him, thinking of how much she resembled a monkey like that. He wondered if that’s what he looked like when he curled around Dean sometimes, or when Dean carried him out of bed, or the shower or probably when they went to bed and Sam wrapped himself around his brother. Slowly but surely all the memories came flooding back to him like a dam that had been broken, and Sam was trying to cover it up like an ant with duct tape. Obviously ineffective, because all of his emotions displayed on his face like an open theater for everyone to see, so he closed his eyes, and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, tears were slipping freely here and there, whilst he desperately tried to regain composure in short coming shuddering breaths. And he was forced to come back because all of a sudden there was a warm body, pressed up against his leg, clinging onto him like he was going to fly away if he was let go, and Sam was sure he would.

When he looked down, he saw Jo, well, most of her anyway, he could only see long blonde curls that made their way down to her shoulder blades, and big beady hazel - brown eyes, looking up at him through long brown lashes that only reminded him of Dean. He brought his arm down and petted her head in slow soothing motions, like Dean used to do to Sam when he was scared. After a while, he had calmed down and was breathing normally, casually hiccuping over the sobs that slowly made their way out of his throat. Jo was still clung onto his leg like there was no tomorrow, but it felt good, comforting. 

"y- okay?" she said after a long minute after he stopped sobbing, her voice soft, like that of a small child.

"Yeah, yeah don’t worry I'm okay. I'm okay." he whispered softly to her, he bent down from the stool and placed a soft kiss on her scalp and mumbled a barely audible "Thank you" that she heard, and it earned him a smile, and little chubby arms were suddenly outstretched at him, Jo making grabby hands at him, begging to be lifted. So Sam went along and picked her up underneath her arm pits and sat her on his lap on the stool that he was sitting on.

Ellen was still on the other side of the counter, a sad smile on her face, her eyes brimming too with unshed tears of sympathy and sadness for him.

 

"You alright honey?" She asked when she finally saw he was no longer crying.

 

"Yeah, I'm okay, jus- needed a minute." He said, trying to clear his voice that was left wrecked after his sobbing

 

"Okay dear, you ever need anything, we're happy to help." She said offering a smile.

 

"Thanks, Ellen really, you're too sweet" He said, lifting his eyes off of Jo's hair onto her face.

 

"Of course love, anything I can do to help. Now, you hungry?" she questioned, looking into his eyes, and Sam realized it wasn't really a question because a plate of food was shoved in his face a second after. He laughed, trying to hide the sudden grimace of disgust food had caused him and he picked up the fork and gradually munched away.  
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bobby's

Dean fell asleep at Bobby's, he attempted getting up for supper the night before, but he was just too wrecked to even move, so he slept through the night until the next day.

  
"Dean you better get off your ass boy, its almost ten and that damn peas's makin' a mess all over the place." Yelled Bobby from the kitchen shooting him a dirty look that he could feel from the back of his neck.

"mmph- mhm?" Dean mumbled unintelligibly from his pillow. And Bobby was right, those peas wet almost everything on he bed, and it was getting colder by the second.

With a grunt, he peeled his face from the pillow he had been unconsciously drooling on for the past few hours. Throwing both legs over the side of the make shift bed Bobby had given, as he sat wondering where Sammy had woken up this morning, if it was cold and dark, or perhaps he woke up in a bed somewhere, warm he hoped. But he knew that was just wishful thinking.

Suddenly hundreds of worries and questions came to mind, all struggling to get to the tip of his tongue first. 'Had Dad found Sam? Is he ever coming home again? Is he even _alive_?' and that thought made him tear up, and he could have sworn he felt his heart burst open a little more with an audible rip.  
  
With the adrenaline of the past few days of 'find Sam, keep up with dad, no one answers the phone, Bobby wants to take me' he had pushed a little of his guilt aside, to focus on finding Sam, and keeping up with everything. But now there was peace, quiet, and all of the heart-stabbing guilt he had harbored for losing Sam was seeping right back in, settling, right along the fact that he could do nothing to help find his Sammy. If he would have been obedient, and stayed with Sam, like John always told him to do, he could still have his family, he could still have Sam, he wouldn't wake up alone, and cold in a soggy bed. He could- He could- but he didn't and Sam's gone, and it's his fault.

 

"DEAN!" and all of a sudden, there was Bobby, kneeling in front of Dean, yelling his name and waving a hand in front of his face, as if he was truly a deaf man.

 

"Wh- what?" he replied, flustered with the sudden actions

 

"What do you mean _'what'_ boy? I've been callin' your name for the past ten minutes!" Bobby said, raising his voice, obviously angered, and had it seriously been that long? for a full second he felt the world spin, and was disoriented as if he had lost time stuck in his own mind.

 

"S- sorry Bobby I didn't hear ya" he mumbled reaching a hand to rub at the back of his neck, offering Bobby an apologetic look, and for a split second, he saw the mans feelings waver. 

 

"How in the hell did ya not hear me? I've been screamin' my lungs out over here!" Bobby replied quickly with a stern look on his face trying to cover up the slip up of emotions in feigned anger.

 

"Really Bobby, I dunno, just got lost in my thoughts 's all." he apologized, worrying at his bottom lip, and Bobby's expression shifted immediately to one of concern, but he kept his mouth shut, ' _thankfully'_

***

Bobby acknowledged that Dean must be grieving over Sam's disappearance, but it was truly a shame he was sulking over nothing, what Bobby would do to take away the hurt from that boy, but his baby brother was fine, and oh how much Bobby itched to tell him that. But he promised, he promised John, and himself that he wouldn't, and he might be doing it to not ruin Dean's hero-idolization for his father, or maybe he's doing it to not take the only family he trusts away from him, God only knows what Dean would do if he found out John _and_ Bobby himself were lying to him.

 

"S'okay kid, ya hungry?" he asked, trying to mask the sadness and fear in his mind, so Dean wouldn't over-worry himself, he was already worked up enough as is.

*** 

"Yeah, yeah I guess so." Dean replied, smacking his knees as he perched up on them to stand, offering Bobby a sad smile despite the fact that he wanted to cry or throw up- probably both. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I sincerely don't know how to apologize, this chapter has taken me Forever and a day to complete, but I guess my muse wouldn't let me post it until it was EXACTLY right. So sorry, but I hope it was worth the wait, here is a little fill-in on how the boys (especially Sam) is dealing with their separation, and oooh what did old Johnny find? hang on to the next chapter to find out! (I love you guys, and the more comments, the more I work, so don't feel bad about spamming, ALSO, constructive criticism is highly accepted and WANTED, so if you guys please, share your opinion and give me some ideas for future chapters, *go and give me some while you still can*) PLUS! I'm working on a TUMBLR, so if any of you would like it, tell me and ill open an account so you guys can send me requests (Yes I'm doing requests for anyone that pleases) even though I'm working on this, I can still do one-shots or chaptered fics if you guys please, or maybe even some other ships if you have a really good plot idea! I'm mainly Wincest, but I don't hate, and I'm open for any of your requests. (Leave a message if you think I should open a tumblr) Thank you my loves! I highly appreciate every Kudo and comment from you beauties, any recommendation on how I can make anything better is highly exalted *Kisses* -Adios


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Joe, Weiss and Frank scope the hospital, and get revenge. Sam is still learning how to deal without Dean but finds a bumpy road ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! Did a gift for Chpt. 10 and I hope you enjoy,  
> ******WARNING!******
> 
> Blood, gore, mentions of rape, it is very intense, you can skip the whole first part, parts are divided by *~*~*~*~*~   
> I made an ABRIDGED version! if you don't like violence or are squeamish with details, the abridged version gets rid of all that while still telling the story.  
> Abridged chapter: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10745880

*Hospital*

Once Weiss and the rest made it to meet up with John and Joe, they entered through the back door where the previous men had exited, and left it open in their hurries. Scoping, the first few hallways were clear, but sounds and conversation were coming in from within the hospital and John realized they definitely weren't alone. Apparently, they had entered by the west wing, (if the rusted signs hanging from the ceiling were any indication) but this part of the hospital was truly abandoned. The whole place was completely insurvivable, layers of grime, dirt, rust, and what John was pretty sure was animal feces, lied around melding in a disgusting rug that covered the entire floor.

 

The smell was vomit inducing, truly horrendous, and it had the other hunters gagging for their lives. John however was completely unfazed, he had burnt freshly rotting corpses and had witnessed the burning flesh of his wife in person; a little mold really wouldn't do him much harm. Especially because he was hell bent on getting to the sons of bitches that took his son. Who would even have the audacity to mess with John Winchester's son? Granted, it's not like they knew him but, oh they would, and he would make sure they would never forget his face.

 

As they pointed their guns and flashlights at every door, room and opening, right and left, they stumbled across a large area, one that had clear signs of have being used, the dirt, mold, and stray leaves that entered due to the wind through broken windows, had been brushed aside providing a clear way of passage from whoever was to access the doors in the next hallway. Conspicuously, and very very quietly, John and the other hunters made their way down the hallway with only the soft shuffling of shoes against dirty tiles.

 

Whispering a 'clear, all clear' for every room examined, they got to a door that had the obvious noise of someone trying very hard to stay quiet. John and Weiss perched themselves on the doorframe, and with a signal, kicked the door open, while Joe and Frank guarded their backs for any guards. As soon as they nearly busted the door to the ground, there was a loud yelp from inside, and they were met face to face with a child, a teenage girl, that couldn't have been more than fifteen years old huddled against the farthest corner of the room, half naked, wrists in chains, and the foot of one of the metal beds in hand. And to be honest, John was a little amused at her bravery, for she was bound to chains in the ground, and John thought 'how did I not see this coming'.

 

To his horror, the room was filled with tools, toys, chains, leather.. whips? Is that? Oh god... there were shelves full of clamps, cuffs, zips, plugs, and John had to stop looking, because the repulsing idea that they could have used this on his son made him sick. John looked ten times more terrified than the girl in the corner, in fact, she looked.. brave. Fearless. Angry even. 

 

"Hey, hey it’s okay, we're here to get you out of here" said Joe in an oddly calm tone, like he'd done this before and was some expert in calming people in the worst moments. The girls shoulders slumped a little and she opened her mouth as if to say something, but gave up on it immediately. John forced some movement into his shocked body and moved towards the chain, but he had a better idea.

 

"Cover your eyes" he told the girl, and she did so, dropping the sharp metal bar in her hands and using them to cover her face defensively. The gunshot startled almost everyone, it was loud in the silence of the hospital, but he managed to remove the chains attachment to the floor. They had to hurry now; everyone must have heard that and was probably on their way to the loud noise.

 

"Hurry, hurry c'mon, let's go." Said Weiss from the door, obviously having heard people coming.

 

Joe lurched forward picking the girl up and linking her over his shoulder, there really wasn't any time to get rid of the cuffs, but even if they would have been removed, she was too weak to walk properly, she had a look in her eyes that said **_strong_** , but her body said otherwise. For a split second John paused and thought about how long she might have been in this hellhole, locked up and used, he wondered of all the torturous things they might have done to her, how damaged she actually was, if she had someone out there looking for her, or missing her. His thoughts were abruptly cut in half by the sound of bullets, and they were coming from the other side of the hallway. ' _Shit, how did they get here so quickly?_ '

 

"Let's go! Let's go!" Was heard from the other side, and John heard.. three? Four? Pairs of footsteps. Jake and Weiss were huddled against the door frame of the room across from them, casually popping their heads out to shoot whenever they heard movement.  And they were wasting time, they needed a distraction, so John took the jump, and before Joe managed to protest or barely even open his mouth, John was out into the open fire.

 

For a minute, John was convinced that if there was anyone upstairs, they were lending him a hand right now, because the second he stepped out, three of the guns ran out of bullets, and all that was heard was the 'click' 'click' of empty guns. Which gave him the chance to put five bullets in three of the men's legs, but one of them ran off, leaving the other three unarmed and wounded to four hunters. ' _Big mistake buddy_ ', John thought, ' _you're next_ '.

 

Frank, Weiss and John zip tied the men to some A/C tubing against the wall successfully knocking them out, and cleared them from any weapons they might have. And Joe decided it would be best if he and the girl stayed behind, she had some wounds to tend to, and handcuffs to get out of.

 

The three of them made it to what seemed to have once been the main entrance / lobby, and they found more traces of people having been there recently. But there were no sounds or people, and there were more floors to cover, so they split up, Weiss and Frank went up, and John would cover the basement. As John made his way down the stair way, there were distinct sounds of people talking, more like murmuring, but it was audible. Checking his bullets and cooking his gun, he made it to the basement past the parking garage, after making sure it was empty.

 

When he got to the double doors that led to the basement, he was surprised to find them unlocked, 'Maybe they hadn't heard the gunshots?' He thought. But he wasn't ready to risk being wrong, so he walked in cautious and quiet, like he had learned to do in his past. But when he caught a glimpse of what was in the dark, his breath caught in his throat. There were human sized _cages_. Like honest to God animal _cages._ And he could barely see anything due to the darkness, but there definitely were people inside, and _gosh_ why on earth was it so _cold?!_

 

"Psst, hey! HEY!" a voice yell-whispered, making John flip and almost topple over with the speed. 

 

"What?!" He replied to the random voice coming from seemingly nowhere.

 

"You better hide man, they're going to be back soon" the voice whispered again, this time from a different place than the first time. And well, John knew a tip when he heard one, so he took place far back in the basement, away from the only entrance/exit. And just as the voice had whispered, not more than two minutes later, two men, about John's size walked into the room and switched the lights on, making every bit of the room visible, and for once, John was glad he took advice from a stranger.

 

"Jackson, what in the ever-living fuck are you doing down here?" A deep voice asked, but John was hid too far back to catch _who_ it was coming from.

 

"U-uhh.. sorry sir, I was um.. just checking on them" another voice muttered, and that was it! That was the one that whispered to John in the dark. Turning slightly to catch a better look, he saw his face, it was a young man, older than the girl they rescued, but not as old as the men whom he was speaking to.

 

"Yeah yeah J, get a move on." The men said almost in unison. And with that, the younger man was dismissed, only looking back to John once, when he was at the door, and was sure the other men weren't looking, he gave John a nod, as in permission to go ahead, and John gave him an equal gesture in thanks.

 

The men began checking cages from the right side of the room to the left, locking them, talking to each other, and making sure the chains were in place. It was only a matter of time before they found him. None of the subjects inside the cages said a single word or even made a sound, except for once, when the men kicked the cage, startling the little boy inside, insinuating a yelp from him out of fear, and they laughed at it. There was a minimum of six kids in the cages, at least that John could see, and two of them were older, around their teenage years, but the spot behind a storage box really didn't give him a good view. The men split up, to cover more ground and finish the task quicker, but that was their first mistake.

 

One of the men that had come to check the cages, wandered too close to where John was sitting patiently with a dagger in hand, second mistake. The second John leaped up to catch the man's throat with his blade, the guy went for a scream, third mistake. Before he even caught his breath to yell, the blade was halfway through his skull, bringing the now limp body down to the ground slowly, he managed to make a completely silent murder, not alarming the other guard in the process, but maybe scarring the child in the cage nearest to him for life.

 

Making a 'shh' motion with his hand to his mouth; he managed to persuade the child into acting a little more normal, so as to not warn the others. But everyone knew he was there, thanks to Jackson's advice, now he just had to pray that none of them were fond of the guards so as to warn them. By the time the other man made it halfway through his task, he realized that his partner wasn't there or at least not anywhere in sight.

 

"Tay?" The man questioned to the silence. "Tay you there man?" He continued, as he tip toed closer to where John was.

 

 "C'mon man, this shit ain't funny; you know m'fucking easy to scare. Don't do that Tay." And in his monologue he managed to make it just where John had perfect access to his back. As he leaped up like a frog, he sliced his dagger clean through the guy's spine, earning him a bone-deep 'crunch' and a strangled half-cry. This time, the man hit the floor with an audible thump, and out came Jackson that had been hiding so well, not even John had heard him.

 

"Oh my god, you did it... you- you killed them." He said out loud in awe, one of his hands coming to cup around his face in shock.

 

"Yeah. Who are you?" Asked John, eyeing the kid with obvious distrust.

 

"O-oh! I'm Jackson," the boy said, taking three long strides and crossing the room with his hand extended to John in a hand shake. And very warily he took the boys hand and shook it with a firm grip.

 

"Wow uh you've got quite a grip" said Jackson, nervously.

 

"M-maybe you can help me get them out of here?" He said, looking at John who nodded in agreement.

 

"Great! Um.. the keys.." He said looking at one of the dead corpses, and John assumed that was the 'Tay' one. Bending down and unclipping the Keychain from the man's belt loop, he took three keys, and gave the other three to Jackson.

 

The both of them made their way across the room testing keys on cages and taking the subjects within, out with extreme care, for most of them were either wounded or really weak, some of them looked like they hadn't eaten in days. One of the older kids looked a little healthier and helped out in carrying the other kids out with an arm around his neck. Just as they made it to the door, Jackson and the older boy turned around and thanked John for saving them.

 

"Anytime," he replied, and that was the first time in a long time he really felt happy for someone, but all of that was drained away when he looked back and remembered all these men had done, and how much they still had left to pay.

 

Making his way back to the lobby, he found Weiss, Frank, Joe, the girl, and two more children along with them, all sitting neatly next to a line of zipped up, knocked out, guards in their thirties and forties including the ones they left in the warehouse.

 

Weiss and Frank quickly came to aid the kids and tended to their care sitting them down in blue plastic chairs and trying to get them to speak.

 

"Joe, man how did you-?" John asked in shock of how everything was so well organized, but was cut off by a dismissive hand thrown in the air.

 

"Really it's nothing man, Weiss and Frank found like two more of those assholes upstairs and a few more kids, the shit they said was up there is fucked up man." Joe said in disgust.

 

"Yeah no kidding, these kids were in fucking cages." He said to him. And Joe made a shocked face in response.

 

" _Cages?! "_ he asked in complete terror.

"Man we have to get these kids to a hospital or something." He said, not waiting for John's reply.

 

"What?! No way Joe!”  John hated having to explain his plan to other people, he wished they would just trust him and let him do his job, like he knew how to, better than anyone. But Joe wasn’t going to give up that easily and John wasn’t in the mood for arguing in front of ten wounded children.

 

“First, we're going to interrogate these sons of bitches, and make them _pay_ for what they've done. Second, we're not leaving them alive to be able to just get out of jail someday and do this again, and third, we can't take these kids to a hospital! They're going to arrest every single one of us, no matter _what_ those kids say we didn't do, and I don't know about you, but getting involved with the law is absolutely the last thing I want to do." Explained John.

 

"Okay, you're right, maybe the hospital _is_ a bad idea, but what do you suggest we do? It's not like we can _leave_ them here!" Exclaimed Joe,

 

"No we can't, and that's exactly why when Johnny boy here is done with his torture session, and we're clear out of the area, we make an anonymous call to the police, telling them to pick the kids up. They'll be fine for half an hour without us."  Frank said, chiming in.

 

“There you go Joe, your answer.” Said John with an ‘I told you so’ hand gesture. Frustrated, but convinced Joe huffed a breath of air and walked away towards the kids settling them in one of the bigger rooms in the hallway.

 

When Joe was done checking on the children and making sure no one was in immediate danger of dying anytime soon, he closed the door and nodded to John an ‘all clear’ and so the fun began. John’s decision to start with the man that he found harassing his son went unquestioned, and sitting the still unconscious man on the seat he woke him up with a slap across the face; ‘This is going to be fun’.

 

“Morning sunshine!” John piped in an obnoxiously happy tone when the man groggily opened his eyes, adjusting to the light change, it was much darker in here than it was out there, so the reaction was only comprehensive.

 

“Thought you were going to sleep through all the fun!” he continued while sharpening his knife against a pebble he found lying on the floor, as he paced left and right in front of the man with an evil smirk on his face, that made him look like he was seriously enjoying this, and who knew? Maybe he was.

 

“Who the hell are you?” the man asked once he came to, and his question immediately brought out a serious look on John’s face, one that was more intimidating than it had any right to be.

 

“No no no…” he tsked  “You see, _I’m_ the one asking the questions here, ‘kay?” said John waving his blade in the air like it was nothing, and _really,_ who was going to say anything to _that?_ But the man had other ideas, and decided to poke at the already angry tiger. So the man just nodded, and locked his gaze on something unimportant lying on the floor to try and evade the death threatening looks John was throwing him, but just as he had planned, a second later he had John crouched in front of him, blade under his chin, tipping his face towards him, and poking him in the throat in a very unfriendly manner. Right then and there he took his chance, and _spit_ in John’s face, the line of saliva trickling down from the bridge of his nose slowly. And John (the patient saint he is) brought the other hand up and wiped the spit from his face slowly in awe, but of course that didn’t last long because he was immediately bringing his fist across the man’s face, causing a delightful ‘crunch’ at the contact. The man went unfazed, looked to his left and spit the blood out of his mouth leaving a bright red foaming spot on the floor, and just to push a little further, smiled at John, bloody teeth and all. But all that got him was John lifting his dagger up at the most painful distance and bringing it down into the man’s left thigh without a second of hesitation, seemingly ripping a yelp out of the man’s lungs.

 

“Now,” he spoke, “We can do this the easy way,” John said, but then got a grip on the blade that was still lodged deep into the man’s bone and giving it a twist (for emphasis) earning him a loud scream “Or the hard way” he concluded, and at this point the man was panting in pain groaning loudly, but John was pretty sure the man understood a threat when he heard one because immediately he replied.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean big boy?” he said smirking though the pain, hissing when John took his hand off the blade and letting it twist back to its previous position.

 “o-OH!” the man exclaimed, seeing the overly aggravated expression on John’s face “This is about that fine piece of ass you interrupted my conversation with isn’t it?” he questioned, twisting his face to catch John’s reaction.

“Why yes it is! Ohhahahaha, what was it that he called you? ‘Daddy?’ Oh now that’s just _kinky”_ The man continued, but all he got for his troubles was another blow to the face and John removed the knife that was deeply embedded into the man’s thigh, bringing it up to his throat.

 

“Don’t you dare talk about my son like that, you really don’t know who you’re messing with.” He said, sinking the blade a little into the man’s throat cutting in, to accentuate his threat.

 

“Oh I would _never!_ He has absolutely the _tightest_ little ass, I highly appreciate i-” The man started off, but was immediately cut off by another one of John’s punches, thankfully he closed his mouth before it got to him or he would have swallowed his hand. This one managed to knock him out for a second, but John didn’t allow him to relish in it, shoving his fingers in the man’s hair and pulling to get him to eye level.

 

“Listen smartass, I want to know exactly what you did to my son, and if you’re lucky, I won’t reenact it on you.” John threatened again, ‘ _Man it really isn’t getting to him is it?_ ’

 

“Oh that’s what you want big boy? Wanna know exactly _how_ I tore into that hot little ass of his? How good it felt? Wanna know how _pretty_ he was? Begging me to stop? Oh! Or how about how _hot_ those pretty little lips wer- _AAAAHG_!” The man explained enthusiastically, but John couldn’t do it, he couldn’t sit and listen to exactly _how_ these sick sons of bitches damaged his son. But he definitely wasn’t going to let them get away with it either, so to shut him up he bent down and sunk his thumb into the gaping hole of the man’s thigh. There was a chuckle from one of the men in the back that had woken up and been observing, and John put a bullet in his foot.

 

Without another word he decided it was time for them to suffer, to pay for all they did, to Sam, to all those other children who would never have a normal life again, and he would make it so, that when the cops found his corpse, he would be completely unrecognizable, just a lump of raw meat thrown in a corner, for all of his sins.  He found diversion in making his scream, mutilating body parts and blood gushing to no end, and he really wouldn’t have stopped but an hour later he was just stabbing a slab of deformed meat, and one of the men interfered.

 

“John- John! That’s enough, It’s enough man, look at him, he’s dead.. John he’s fucking dead. Stop.” Said Weiss prying the blade from his hand, and John found himself crying, tears rolling off of his cheek to mix with the splatter of blood all over his body. And the only thing that kept going in his mind was those words. ‘ _He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.’_ The rest of the men were given a slow and painful death, some of them choked on their own blood, others bled out of indecent places, but in the end they were all dead. The hunters helped John finish the job, wincing at how much blood there was, how many they’d killed, but it was worth it, for the look on those kids faces when they left, it was all _so_ worth it.

 

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

 

At Ellen's house, Sam enjoyed breakfast with Jo on his lap briefly, after finishing his all-too abundant plate of food, he ran to the bathroom clutching at his stomach. All of the contents within threatening to make an unwelcome appearance at the table after some unintentionally induced Dean memories.

 

He clutched at the porcelain bowl on his knees while he expelled the acid from his stomach ungratefully, and heaved until there was nothing left. He sat clutching onto the bowl until the pads of his fingers were numb and white with the pressure, and he was sure he was going to have nasty bruises by the way his knees made a violent connection with the floorboards.

 

The voice of Ellen attempting to calm him and let her into the restroom  he had hastily locked to make space between himself and the whole world, was only interrupting his thoughts and prayers to some force above, that perhaps, just perhaps, this was all just a big fat nightmare.

 

"Sam honey, please open the door" pleaded Ellen from the other side. And Sam was sure he woke up Bill because he was hearing murmured conversation and worried tones. With an effort, he detached himself from where he was crouching, flushed the toilet and turned to the sink in one groggy movement.

 

Looking up from the sink, he was met with his reflection, there was an old mirror, that couldn't have been larger than his hand (if he really spread his fingers) that enjoyed a nice wooden trim around it with many carvings and pretty shapes. It would have been really fascinating and all, if his face wasn't accusingly staring back at him like a sick puppy. He had grey under eye bags that could reach almost to the apples of his cheeks, his face was drained of all color, pale as a bed sheet, and he looked malnourished, his cheekbones were pronounced more than they should have been, but not starved, he still had a lot of baby fat to work out of, but he could still see the difference.

 

His hair did a _thing_ , it was all tousled on the top, it fell down over his eyes covering his brows, framing his face in very messy dark brown curls, and the back had been patted down in a futile attempt to hide the cowlick from that morning when he woke up. _'I'm a mess_ ' he thought to himself as he turned one of the handles on the sink, water sputtering out and then in a loud rush. He managed to mostly muffle out the sounds of worried conversation behind the door. Cupping some of the water, he splashed his face, looking back up at how the drops slid and left wet tracks on his cheeks, some of it clinging onto the curls that got in the way making them even darker.

 

As he reached out to the towel that was pitifully clinging from the hook on the wall, he realized he was running out of time to be alone, as soon as he walked out that door he would be bombarded with questions and feelings and worried looks, when in reality all he wanted to do was lie down and never open his eyes again.

 

"Alright alright I'm coming." He said as he unlocked the door and opened it hoping they wouldn't pry on how he was feeling or if he wanted to talk about anything. He _really_ wasn't in the mood.

***

"Oh Sam..." was all Ellen could muster when she saw the boy standing in front of her. He looked...   _heartsick_. Completely in despair, he had a look on his face she had only seen on grown men some of which whose families had been murdered, men who had seen too much and been loved too little. It was a look of absolute sadness, like there was nothing in this world living for, and she swore that she never wanted to see that look on a child's face ever again.

 

She didn't trust her voice to say any words that would actually provide any real comfort in this situation, so she did what her motherly instincts told her to do. She reached around the boy and pulled him into a hug, fierce with love and emotion, sadness and sympathy. He was limp in her arms, like maybe he was in shock, or just so broken he couldn't move, but all that made her do was hold on tighter, and she was pretty sure he was having trouble breathing, if the soft wheezing was anything to go by.

 

And that's when she realized he was crying, sobbing in her arms, face turned in and tucked into the crook of her neck, arms still hanging besides him, but his body was slung on her, like he didn't have the strength in his knees to hold himself up. And all that did to her was continue to tear at her sympathetic heart, because there was really nothing she could do to help him, or console him. Other than of course, telling him that his brother was alive, but she couldn't do that, she had promised John and he would probably skin her alive if she said a single word.

 

"Sammy dear," she said after a long minute, but immediately felt the boy tense under her, and the sobs that had now been fading away into hiccups came back stronger than ever into outward cries, and she considered that maybe she had said something wrong.

 

"Oh honey I'm so _so_ sorry" she pleaded uselessly, while rubbing his back with the circular motions of her palm.

 

"Shh, I know _. I know_." She said after a while, when Sam was regaining composure and trying to  explain himself, but that didn't get very far, he was all snot-nosed with tears, face still stuffed in her neck, and he had a breathing hitch from the crying, so words really weren't going to work for him right now. 

***

After what felt like thirty minutes, Sam slowly peeled himself from her looking down at his feet, and an embarrassed look on his face while he was fidgeting furiously with the hem of his shirt.

 

" 'M Sorry Ellen, I just miss Dean, and dad, and-" he had to stop, because the tears were threatening to start pouring again, so he rolled his eyes upward and took a deep breath before continuing. "I just wish he could find him so we could be home again" he finished, carefully avoiding the part where he totally hated himself for everything that had happened, he was sure that all that would accomplish would be another embarrassment for himself and another hug from Ellen, which was great by the way, but one soul crushing hug a day was good thanks.

 

"It's alright dear, no need to explain, I completely understand" she said with a sad smile on her face, and _gosh_ , when we're people going to stop feeling bad for him? _He_ was the one that started this whole disaster.

 

"Thanks Ellen" he replied, and he wasn't looking forward to standing in awkward silence forever so he asked.

 

"Um, I- is it okay if I go outside for a bit? I kind of need some fresh air." He rushed, almost stuttering his words.

 

"Of course honey!" She replied enthusiastically, and when were the nicknames going to stop? Not that he didn't like them, but it was just one of those things that reminded him of Dean.

 

"Great, thanks" he muttered, as he walked back down the hall to the room that was now his.

He threw on a jacket, and changed into a new shirt, the other one had tears and snot and sweat from all the crying, and a little of vomit too, so he needed a change of fresh clothes. Achingly, all of his clothes were once Dean's but he tried to just change and keep his head as clear as possible to try and avoid totally girly breakdown. And as much as he would enjoy lying down to die right now, he was itching with the need to just go outside and breathe.

 

Making his way out of the house, he told Ellen that he'd only be out for ten minutes, and she told him there was a nice old play ground around back if he was interested. As he closed the door, he was met with a gust of wind that picked up  some of the leaves on the  ground, throwing them about. It was a gloomy day, like the sun feared coming out and hid behind the clouds that were grey in the wake of rain.

 

The grass hadn't been trimmed and was tall, it reached Sam's knees and the soil beneath it was almost muddy, but not enough to sink in. He trotted out and around the house, it was a considerable size, and the yard was pretty big itself. As Ellen had said, there was an old rusty playground out back that had two swings, one of which had a baby seat on it, for toddlers like Jo.  

 

Sam no longer fit in the baby swings, Dean and him had tested that theory about two months ago by getting him stuck on one of them and it took a lot of pulling and hanging Sam up side down to get it off. It had left a nasty circular bruise around his upper thigh where it became lodged. Dean had been endlessly pissed that Sam now had to use the 'Big boy swings' but helped push Sam on them nevertheless. Realizing that Dean wasn't around to push the swing for him, he decided it would be useless to even get on it, he never bothered to learn how to swing himself, after all, Dean was always there to push him.

 

Walking away from the memory, he saw a rusted slide that was sure to give a nasty burn to anyone who decided it would be a good idea to slide down there in shorts. There was also a set of monkey bars that crossed each other in an X and reached the floor on all ends. Sam saw the opportunity and took it, climbing up the ladder and sitting on the top right where both ladders crossed, creating a perfect box for him to sit in.

 

As he sat there trying to not let the all too fresh and abundant memories of Dean wash on him, he spotted a door, one that was on the ground, that opened upwards, and probably led to the basement of the house. As he tried to convince himself out of it, the curiosity got the better of him and he jumped off the bars with a leap. Once he approached the green wooden doors that were slightly elevated by planks, he pulled one open by the platinum handle on the front, and that when he noticed, 'Its silver, to protect against monsters… Interesting' he thought. Before pulling the doors open, he noticed another peculiar thing, there were tiny engravings all around the door, sigils, protection symbols, he had seen all of them in Johns journal he read once. Assuming he'd be safer in there than outside where he had been ogling at the door, he pulled it open and leaped inside, being met with a small ladder that reached the bottom. It was about eight feet down, but the ladder looked sturdy enough, so in he went.

 

The basement was dark once he went inside, ‘too dark’ so he padded around the walls searching for a light switch. All of a sudden he felt something touch his back, well more like graze it, but the speed in which he turned around left him dizzy. Batting out with his hands like a mad man fighting a bee, he found that it was simply a string, so he gave it an experimental tug, and voila just like that his darkness problem was solved.

 

Sam was genuinely a fearless child, even though he had many nightmares, he knew about the things that went bump in the night, and thanks to his father’s apparently fearless nature, he grew up with ‘Shoot first ask questions later’ like his brother, so as you would come to find, not many six year olds would go wandering and enter a dark and seemingly endless basement in the house of a stranger just because.

 

Laughing at himself silently for getting startled ‘not scared, no’ of the very thing he was searching for, he looked around the room and absorbed his surroundings. The basement was large, it’s four long walls formed a perfect rectangle, and the side walls were lined with shelves that stocked so many books it really was starting to look like a library, well maybe except for the armory that was securely sheltered by glass in a metal box to his right, ‘easy access in emergencies’ he thought, feeling smug for coming to that conclusion he continued to observe.

 

The floor was covered in sigils and protections to ward against any unwelcome visitors and Sam wondered what Ellen kept in here that was to be secured so much. Giving it thought now, it wasn’t all that secure, Sam had gotten in without a problem. But maybe it wasn’t meant to be protected against people, and that begun to make sense.

 

There was a table in the center, that hade pages sprawled all over in a very messy disorganized matter, very unlike what John’s work looked like, all of his notes were perfectly lined, evenly spaced from each other, neat letters and drawings in right places, and all of a sudden Sam felt the need to clean it all up and put it in its place, but he controlled himself and he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be in here anyways, much less touching things.

 

Walking down to tie table to get a closer look at the papers spread out on top, something caught his eye, down to the right under one of the shelves, there was a chest, well at least it looked like one. Tip toeing over he saw that once again it was warded with sigils, marks and something about this was particular… and was that? Oh that is so cool. Enchantments they were enchantments, but for what? And what was their purpose? The chest was locked with a rusty iron chain that went around from both sides, over and under the chest. Huh. Ghost proof, and human proof, interesting. Just as he was going to give it an experimental touch, he was interrupted.

 

“Sam? Sam!? Honey where ar- Oh!” she exclaimed in amusement when she looked into the basement, Sam had accidentally left the doors open. ‘stupid stupid stupid’ he thought to himself. But quickly regained his thoughts, he needed to come up with an excuse, and quick.

 

“What are you doing down here darling? It’s dangerous and I was beginning to worry about you” she said once she made her way down the ladder. And if Sam heard right… did she say ‘dangerous?’ hmm..

 

“Y-yeah sorry Ellen, I.. I um got bored and kinda wandered off a bit. Sorry” he apologized. She gave a chuckle and a understanding nod as she stretched her hand out to him

 

“It’s okay dear, you must be bored out of your mind, but lunch is ready so we should go eat.” She said, and if Sam was worried she was going to scold him, or be angry, her soothing tone definitely got rid of that thought. But then her words repeated in his head and…

 

“Lunch?! Already?!” he asked, amazed at how much these people ate and in what a short space of time too, I mean he might not be from Nebraska but he was sure people didn’t normally eat like this.

 

“Yes dear, You’ve been out here for hours! You’re not hungry?” she questioned, a worried look seeped across her face. After this morning, she must have thought it was just temporary sickness but now she was clearly worrying again, at a much quicker pace. So he jumped to quell her thoughts.

 

“No! No, yeah! Starving, “ he lied “Just didn’t realize how long I’d been here ‘s all” he replied as quickly as possible, and the worried look, to his satisfaction, disappeared to a smile once again on her pretty rounded face. Ellen was a nice looking woman, and he didn’t really like making her worry, it gave her these lines on her face that he wished weren’t there at all, because for some reason, she reminded him of his mother, and even though he didn’t have any actual memories of her, he imagined she would be like Ellen, kind, and loving, and sweet, and she’d know how to cook and make cookies and sing lullabies to him when he went to sleep. He found himself spacing out staring into nothing as Ellen, once again, with all the patience in the world, reminded him where he was.

 

“Sam, honey? Are you alright?” and apparently she had been talking before too, due to the clearly concerned look on her face. And again Sam managed to place those worried little lines on her face, ‘again’ he thought. ‘I’m really causing her more trouble than I’m worth.’ Looking back up from where he had been blankly staring at nothing in particular, he gave her his biggest smile and crushed his face into her stomach with a hug, managing to expel a startled ‘oof’ from her in the process.

 

Before she could manage any words, or questions for that matter, he pulled back and looking into her eyes simply said a “Thank you” and ran up the ladder, leaving a very shocked and confused Ellen behind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean needs to find Sam, has to find the thing that took him, and his newfound bloodlust is going to drive him all the way insane.

Bobby’s house was quiet, _too quiet_ , so much so, that it emphasized every _single_ thought running across your head. ‘ _No wonder Bobby can study here_ ’ It’s practically a boom box for thinking. It wasn’t an easy silence,  like the one that sometimes exists in the Impala when dad is driving and Sammy’s asleep, it’s more than that, it’s like it’s constantly judging you, and forcing you to live in your mind, replaying your thoughts, memories, guilt… and honestly that’s the _last_ thing Dean wants to do right now. Think.

The house was too big, like it was meant for a family and not some old hunter with a fascination for lore, old books, and things that went _bump_ in the night. At that, Dean wondered if Bobby ever had a family, before. If he was ever married, or ever had kids of his own, who knew? Dean thought from his very comfortable position in his make shift bed. Bobby was sitting at his desk, three books open on the right hand side, a half – empty bottle of Dewar’s on the left, and his nose was scrunched up in intense thought laser - focusing on whatever he was reading. _‘Nah’_ the old man looked like he had never even kissed a girl, much less ever had one of his own, to his credit thought, he did kind of have a ‘dad’ feeling to him. But there was just always something haunting his features, kind of the same look John got after Mary died, Dean remembered, and he remembered the night they tucked him into bed and kissed him on the forehead, the night his momma told him angels were watching over him, the night she sang ‘Hey Jude’ until his eyes were droopy with sleep, and he remembered, he remembered that was the last time he ever saw his father smile. Mary had a warm smile, the kind that would brighten your day and make the sun shine ten times brighter, and every time Sam smiled, Dean got that same feeling, like the world was just perfect and nothing could ever go wrong. But John never smiled, not any more, he had this _look_ and today, Bobby had the same look, and if Dean didn’t know better, he would think the man had some kind of chronic pain or injury, but the old man was always walkin’ and talkin’ and he ran up that flight of stairs taking them up two at a time.

Alright then, it wasn’t physical, _‘So what?’_ if he felt even an ounce of the pain that Dean had right now, the _guilt._ It would justify that haunting look to the end of his days. Dean didn’t really know the man, what he had been through, so he decided not to judge, after all, it was in everyone’s best interest.

 

“I c’n practically _hear_ you thinkin’ from here boy. Whaddya’ want? Y’ hungry?” Bobby said, startling Dean from his thoughts. And there really was no use in pretending he was asleep, he had been caught red handed. Or red minded? He wasn’t sure.

“Uh… Nah, I’m good Bobby thanks,” he replied, making an effort to lift himself off the bed, but immediately wincing in pain. His ribs hurt like hell and even though the swelling around his eye had partially gone away, it was still sore and bruised, like the day he fell out of that tree and had to be taken to the hospital, and _man_ was John pissed. John.. the thought brought him back to his pain, and to his guilt, all of it layering like piles of dirt in his lungs. John had really outdone himself this time, it hurt like all hell, and he could barely even blink without seeing stars swiveling above him.

“Hey kid if ya’ wanna stay in bed, y’can just ask.” Bobby offered, looking slightly helpless at the boy’s pain.

“No, no I’m good, I wanna get up, it just _hurts_ ” he replied over a grunt, voice strained and forced, and really if he didn’t get better soon how was he going to help Sammy?

“I’m sure I got some pain med’s round here somewhere, it’ll take the edge off.” Bobby offered scincerely

“No! no, I- I’m good really.” He cut Bobby off, who was getting up to rummage in one of his drawers, and fixed him with a suddenly puzzled look. In all honesty, all Dean had been doing for the past two days was resting, taking naps and sleeping, casually getting up to eat or use the restroom. He knows that taking pain meds will only dope him up and put him right back under, when all he wants is to clear his head, to think, or do the opposite, he doesn’t know. All he wants is Sam, and he’ll do anything, withstand any pain, just to get him back, exactly how? He doesn’t know, but he damn sure will, he owes it to him, to his father, for trusting him, and to Sam, for being the sun in his sky every single day no matter what.

“Is there any chance I can call John?” he asked Bobby, and _that_ sure got him a reaction. Bobby practically jumped out of his skin, eyes widening almost comically, and struggling to regain composure, all in a millisecond. ‘Weird.’ He thought to himself, and shelved it away for things he would think about later, probably in the dark of the night when he was alone and had nothing else to do but think.

“I don’t think so kiddo, your pops’ busy tryna find your brother kid, y’shouldn’t bother im’” He replied, not meeting Dean’s eyes once.

“Oh..kay did- did he tell you anything?” he questioned “Has he found anything that ‘d help im’ find Sammy?” And honestly bobby looked like he’d just killed someone’s puppy, guilt shone in his face all the way.

“Nah kid, I havn’t spoke to your pops since I picked y’up” he muttered, and okay, that was really shady, but why would Bobby lie to him? It’s not like he _wants_ Sam to be missing no one does, so he ignored it. After all, no one is more blind than that who doesn’t want to see.

“Is there somethin’ I should know Bobby?” he asked anyway, better safe than sorry right? Searching the older man’s eyes for truth, he  replied.

“No kid, your brother was kidnapped; God knows where the poor idjit is.” Bobby said, once again not meeting Dean’s eyes, and with a sigh, he let it go. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to be sitting around doing nothing! If he could help, then he would. He hated the fact that he was so far away from where Sam was taken, he should be there when John finds him “If boy if” Bobby’s words resonated in his head. And oh how he wished he could turn back time, he would do so much different.

“Is there any way I c’n help find im’ Bobby? Y’know it’s my fault he’s gone, an- and I should be doin’ somethin’ anythin’!” he pleaded, teary eyed and begging, and really, who could ever say no to that? Apparently Bobby, he stayed quietly still, back in his seat focused on the page before him, but after a solid three minutes, Bobby came around and with a loud exasperated sigh he gave in.

“Fine, y’c’n help me look n’ see if it was jus’ some man out there, or a creature, we still dunno’ who or _what_ got im’” Bobby said, and really Dean was dying to know, so he padded softly over the old carpet  being careful with his wounds and pulled up a chair, sitting next to Bobby and as he grabbed one of the books that were lying open on his desk, he kept thinking “Do it  for Sam. Do it for Sam. Do it for Sam”.

“What should I look for?” he asked, and Bobby fixed him a sad smile and proceeded to fill him in on all the monsters he knew wanted anything to do with little kids.

 

“[…] Y’see, this one,” Bobby held up a page with a pencil drawn but very clear and very disturbing image of a hairy ragged – looking _thing_ with thick leathery skin, and if Dean didn’t know that was a monster, it would have looked like a sick lump of hair.

“’S called a Rawhead” He pointed out,

“They eat kids, and usually hide out in basements but they can hide outside too, them buggers look like rocks an...” He continued, but Dean had stopped listening at “Eat kids” because, what if Sam was dead? Eaten outside alone by some disgusting looking _thing_? What if he had been scared and calling out Dean’s name but he wasn’t there to help him? His brother. Murdered in cold blood, while Dean was out having fun. By a monster. His only job, the only responsibility and purpose he had ever had was to protect Sam, take care of him, make sure he was safe. And suddenly he understood, he finally got why his dad was so angry, always in need to kill, revenge, that’s what it was it was hatred, for John it was the man that took Mary away. For Dean, it was a faceless monster with a sweet tooth for children and a disgusting looking lump of a body.

The pit of dread, guilt and fear in his stomach suddenly turned cold, it was like his heart had stopped and turned limp, for the first time since Sam disappeared, he didn’t feel anything. Just anger. Hate. He hated that thing, he _Hated_ it. Hated it for taking Sam, for thinking that it could get away with such a thing. And if it had taken his brother, _killed_ his Sammy? He was going to find it. And he was going to kill it, just like he knew his father wanted.

He spent the next four hours surfing Bobby’s books, emptying his library page by page, checking pictures, studying hunter’s journals, reading eyewitness accounts, reports of missing children anywhere in the vicinity of Kokomo In. He took notes, read lore and disturbing rhymes

“Rawhead and Bloody Bones

Steals naughty children from their homes,

Takes them to his dirty den,

And they are never seen again”  Every page, every picture, every sentence made him angrier, number, it made him hate more, and the sudden want for blood was almost crazy. He studied his eyes out, right up until they were grainy and heavy with sleep, but he wouldn’t sleep, not in a million years if it meant this thing was out there and alive, if there was a hair’s chance that Sam could still be alive, he would find him. He would kill it.

 He glared off any and every attempt of Bobby’s to get him to eat, or stop, or just stretch his legs, and was met with an understanding look and more ‘ _thankthelord’_ silence. It was about ten thirty at night when Bobby dared speak up again.

“Kid you have t-“ Bobby began, but his efforts to get Dean to take a break had been wavered off and ignored,

“How d’ya kill it.” Dean interrupted. And apparently Bobby was hard of hearing too because he asked.

“What?”

“How. Do. You. Kill. It?” Dean replied, as if speaking with a child, his tone full of sarcasm and seething anger.

“Kill what boy?” Bobby questioned.

“The Rawhead, you said it ate children right? There’s a chance that it could be out there, that it could have Sam, I want to know how to kill it.” Dean clarified.

“Well y’cn shoot it, or y’cn electrocute it.” Bobby said, seriously regretting ever letting Dean know about the Rawheads or suggesting a monster took his brother, the last thing anyone needs is another John Winchester.

“You can teach me how to kill right?” He asked, and Bobby was sure that just for this, John Winchester deserved hell.

“Sure kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! But here's chapter 11! <3 Love the comments kudos and tips! Talk to me on Tumblr! Spn_life_2005


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a flashback to the hospital and discovers a very disturbing fact about his stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING***  
> Adult content! Rape! Violent Flashbacks! Memories! and Disturbing Imagery! VERY GRAPHIC CONTENT.  
> \----------- I WILL NOT be making an abridged chap. for this ------------------  
> Apologies to those who are squeamish and over-sensitive

Sam felt miserable, more like crawling the walls maybe, but miserable was a pretty damn good description for his situation. After Ellen caught him snooping around in the basement, he decided against doing any more investigation of his own, across the fairly big yard and the house which he still hadn't entirely seen, but the anxiety was crawling up his back, and fast. Whatever it was, it was bordering the edge of panic, and Sam had this kind of feeling like something was coming for him and he had to keep running, keep hiding, thinking about something else, not stopping, not one second in fear that that thing whatever it was, was going to catch up to him, his thoughts, his memories, whatever it was that he didn't want to remember, he wouldn't. And for some reason he knew it wasn't going to be good, so he kept fidgeting, kept moving, kept thinking, reading, watching, flipping through the seven TV channels like a madman, trying to count how many times the same pattern was printed on the short haired carpet under the table, how many times the stool had to have been moved to make that small dent into the thin wood, and at this point the term hyperactive was more than an understatement.  
   
He could practically feel Ellen's constantly worried gaze on him, but for once, just this once, he didn't care, not at all. He went into his duffel and found the small notebook that he usually took for school, and had squiggly messed up notes inside, and he began to draw, he didn't even know what, but he had to keep his mind off it, whatever it was, and he knew it wasn't Dean, because the thought of Dean was a safe place, no matter how sad and lonely it was now, and filled with unwanted guilt, it was still his safe place, no matter what. So he focused on that, he focused on everything about Dean that he could possibly remember, and hell if those weren't a lot of things.  
   
He thought about how warm, how safe he felt with Dean's arms around him when he was cold, or scared, but he couldn’t draw that, there was no explaining in pictures or words how perfect the world felt in Dean's arms, not ever. That wouldn't do, so he decided to stay focused on the things he could see, not feel, and well, if he could see it, he could draw it, and you could trust Sam not to stop until he got whatever was on his mind right. He thought about Dean's freckles, the one's he always tried to count off as he fell asleep, he thought about Dean's eyes, the greenest green Sam had ever seen, he thought about his lips, perfectly round and always shining in the light. And so it came to be, the perfect image of everything Dean was, without it being him, an Aurora Borealis sky with the exact color of Dean's eyes, and the shades it was when his moods changed, stars scattered perfectly across the sky in a cluster of galaxies to represent the marveling dusting of his freckles, with a big bright round moon hovering overhead shiny in the darkness, without a cloud in sight, and it was beautiful, every part of his mind trying desperately to grasp onto that image of the perfect sky that would represent his brother, and he itched to draw it, to carve that perfection with his own hands. He thought about the nights when he couldn’t fall asleep, so he just laid in his brother's embrace sneaking glances he wouldn't be allowed in broad daylight because Dean had become self-conscious whenever anyone looked at him or stared for a little too long, and that was.. Well.. Always. He would blush, a pretty pink flush that would spread across his nose under his freckles and to the tips of his ears, and duck his head like it was going to hide anything. But people kept right on staring, and if Sam hated them a little bit for it, it was just because it bothered Dean so it bothered him too.  
   
After what felt like hours, he found himself sitting on the old carpet of the room that now belonged to him, clutching a pencil like he was about to stab someone, and a completely empty notebook in front of him. And God.. everything felt wrong, so wrong, like maybe the world had stopped spinning, or the sun had turned cold, because this wasn't right, Dean should be here, he shouldn't be imagining his brother's gorgeous freckles, he should be seeing them, he should be able to touch them, and for a simple desperate second, he wanted to kiss them, all of them, counting them over and over, he wanted to memorize every spot and mark on Deans body, to have for himself, like his private library of Dean in his head, he wanted to know all of his brother, every part of him he never bothered to pay attention to, because Dean was always there, would always be there, so he took him for granted, how wrong it felt to not know each and every part of him, it made him feel empty, like he wasn't complete because pieces of Dean were missing in his mind, like empty slots. Oh but the thought that he might never be able to, might never get the chance to kiss his freckles or his stupidly short hair at the nape of his neck that was so soft Sam wanted to bury his face in it, almost made him ill, made him want to bury a hole in the ground and never come out, let the universe take him, because who was Sam if there was no Dean?  
   
It had been the only thing in Sam's little life that had ever lasted, not even his father was permanent, Sam knew, his father left, and didn't come back for weeks, and sometimes he didn't even feel like his father anymore, because it was always Dean there to catch him fall, there to kiss his hurts away and hold him when the nightmares made him shiver and cry and wake him up screaming. He remembers this girl from a few states away that was telling the whole class about how awesome her dad was, how he would tell her stories to sleep, how he would hold her hand when she was scared, how he drove her for two entire hours just so she could see the sun fall off of the edge of the ocean before dark, and if that's what a dad was supposed to do, then he should probably start calling Dean something else, because John never did any of those things for Sam, and that's what made Dean the constant thing in his life, that he was above every one, even his own father.  
   
A sharp knock on the door drowned out his thoughts, and thank God his little meditation session had managed to tamper a bit of the panic on his exterior, he scrambled to pull himself together, but when he opened his hands the pencil that he had clutched before wasn't falling out of his now open hand, and that was odd because Sam was pretty sure that the whole earth spinning thing hadn't been literal, but as he looked down at his palm he was hit with realization. The pencil had snapped in half and his fingers were numb at how tight he had been clutching it, hence why he didn't feel the snap, or the cut, or the blood that was now dripping all the way to his elbow. And it was too late by then, what was up with his reaction time? Because in a split second he had Ellen sitting beside him desperately picking shards of wood out of the palm of his hand, and Sam was pretty sure she was speaking, but he couldn't hear her, it was like being dragged under a tidal wave, because he couldn't move, couldn't speak, and suddenly he felt like falling, like a weightless feather slowly making its way down to earth, and there was gravity, his old friend, and his head hit the carpet with a thump as he felt the world spin out before his now closing eyes.

There was a sullen peace, for just about a minute, no thoughts, just the simple sound of very distant muffled speech, and there was darkness, but something was clutching at the back of his mind, the dark spot in his memories he had been fleeing from all day, but this time, he was so tired, so exhausted and drawn out by the peace in this darkness, that he let it come, he opened the doors to his mind and felt everything else fall away completely. At first it was confusing, like he was replaying a memory through a fogged glass, and there were so many voices fighting for control in his subconscious, so he focused on the loudest and tried to make out what it was saying, but it felt like opening the dam to a painful flood that was as slow and thick as molasses, at first it were just fragments, just parts of speech, "Boy" and "good?" But then there it was, harsh and loud in his ringing ears and _yeah..._ there was no running away from this.

First of all came the pain, he was tied down, wrists pinched forcefully in a cold metal restraint and he was sure those were metal handcuffs, he tugged at them, testing their grip, and the answer was pretty damn tight, because there was no moving whatsoever from the clutch. He felt like he was stretched out, every muscle painfully bowstring taut, and he wasn't even resisting, he was as loose as could get, but he was strung so tight the muscles in his arms that were held above his head felt like they were being ripped right through. He was bent over something rough but posh, and the distinct smell of leather and copper iron blood hit him then, making him aware but confusing him even further. His senses were being turned on like someone was flipping switches, first his sight, then the smell, and there was the pain, at first it was numbed by the haze in his head, but more pain and he was screaming, there were sharp blows coming at him from behind in sloppy shower of leather cords. Some hitting the small of his back, the rest falling on his ass and bouncing back to the handler, and he couldn't help but think 'Where am I?'. The pain was blurring the rest of his senses, but his ass was burning, searing heat that radiated from his neck to his toes with every blow. He counted about ten, (and it wasn't that bad after the initial shock, he had received worse from John) and finally his last missing sense was flipped on, and he frantically tried thinking about anything, he tried to focus on the volume of his very own cries, but the blood curdling screams still couldn't drown out the disgusting words that were coming from behind him.

"You like that? Hell yeah you do, look at how red and sore your pretty little ass is."

"Fuck baby boy, you look so good, shame you wont remember this."

"Yeah sweetheart scream, scream for me, just like that"

"You want this fat cock? huh? Yeah, I'm going to give it to you baby. _Shit_ look at that."

He felt strong hands spread his cheeks, thumbs pulling his entrance open and fingers splayed across his ass to his hips. There were rough calloused fingers swiping up and down gently teasing at his hole, and the burning sensation on his ass was mixed with fluttering shivers across his spine because, why did that feel good? And then suddenly there was the push, it felt like sandpaper was entering him, ripping and painfully dry, dragging a jagged yelp out of him in excruciating pain, and it wasn't stopping, first it was the tip of the finger, then past the first knuckle onto the second and it wasn't stopping, it went all the way in, dry until he could feel the knuckles of the other fingers prodding at his tailbone.

When it dragged out, it felt very much like his very own guts were coming out with it, but it seemed to slide out quicker than when it went in, and Sam realized between the pain that it was being slicked with his own blood, hence the smell. The finger started a rhythm and it wasn't long before he felt another forcing its way in, his cries for help and of pain had long since subsided and he could feel everything that was happening around him, behind him, _to_ him. The man was still talking, babbling on about how his ass was perfect and how beautiful he was ' Oh so pretty baby boy  _Fuck'_  but the rest was just babble, and Sam laid there stretched out limp, almost lifeless, and honestly that's what he felt, dead, he felt dead, tainted, and hurt and all alone, so very alone. When the fingers slid out, it was a painful relief, and he prayed that he was going to be left alone, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. His dread was confirmed a few long seconds later when he felt something else much much bigger push and tease at his entrance, he bit his tongue and it was all he could do to not scream when the tip penetrated him. The nausea and pain dragged him back under, and for once he was very glad for it, but not seconds later he was being pulled back in and there were hands all over him, ripping him back into consciousness, and he didn't even realize he was yelling, until it reaches his own ears, and he could hear his voice, hoarse with screaming and the sandy feeling in his throat pleading a litany of “no no no please let me go, stop it hurts, let me go, please please DEAN make it go away make him go away let me go _let me go_ …” but his eyes wet with tears were practically being ripped open, and instead of the horrible man in his memories he saw Ellen. He quieted in shock, and absolute terror until his eyes focused clearly and there she was, tears pouring out on her face, clutching desperately at Sam, lost in her own banter of

“it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, you’re safe, I promise darling, I got you baby wake up, honey please baby wake up” but he didn’t want to, he wanted to stay in the everlasting darkness forever, but when her eyes met his she shuddered in a gasp and pulled him in tight, her arms wrapping around him protectively rocking him and whispering sweet nothings and 'your'e okay's' and just then, he let himself go, he felt safe in her warm arms, her heart beating at a frantic rhythm and he let it coax him out of the pain and panic the memory had brought on. He wanted Dean, so badly, but right now, right here, he had the closest thing to a mother he ever knew, and he felt safe, he let her take Dean's place, just while he was gone, and he quietly apologized to him for it, and even though it felt like cheating, lying, he let himself be lulled to sleep by the soft rocking and shushing, and he slipped under into the same quiet haze he felt before falling.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Successions in Ellen's POV, what happened between William Harvelle and John? and what was Ellen going to do about it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!   
> *** WARNING ***  
> Mentions of rape, light.   
> Leave comments if you want this story to continue!  
> Kudos are appreciated!

          Ellen was slowly but surely bordering on a panic attack, everything happened so quickly and now it was all spinning out of control, and for the first time in what had been forever of her very peaceful and put together life, she didn't know what to do, and it was all thanks to John Eric Winchester. It all started when he phoned Bill, immediately after he'd answered the phone his face fell and turned white as a sheet at recognizing who was on the other line, Ellen felt a cold shiver creep down her spine, because there was only one man that could put that troubled look on her beloved's face and he never meant good news.

 

"Who izit darlin'?" she had asked, knowing very well who it was but silently praying in her head that she was wrong, and the look he gave her needn't any answers because she simply nodded and looked at her feet. 

 

"What did he want?" she asked, purposefully not looking into his eyes so as to not see the rage that was in both of them.

 

"He needed a favor" he answered dimly, and at that her head came flying up, and perhaps she should check for whiplash because "WHAT?!" 

 

"Y- You did say no.. right?!" she pleaded, but the way he wouldn't meet her eyes gave her all the answers she needed.

 

"BILLY! why?" but it came out more as 'whay' because when she got mad her accent vanished and she'd let her drawl slip.

 

"I owed 'im a favor" and with that her stomach bottomed out, and she was seriously considering murder would be a good option right about now.

 

"William Anthony Harvelle, what have I told you about making deals with that man? Its as good as selling your soul to a goddamned demon, YOU know that!" she scolded, doing her best to not yell or get overly worked up, but this just wasn't going to pass.

 

"I know El, but I really owed him for that vamps nest down in Illinois, and he said it was important, and it would clear my debt with 'im" he spoke, words barely above a mumble but audible to her ears

 

"Bill you know what happened last time anyone owed him a 'favor', its as good as signing your own death warrant!" she exclaimed, trying to reason with her husband, but the man had always had a soft spot for the older Winchester, they'd been friends when Bill had joined the military, and John had covered for him a couple times, but unfinished business drifted them away, and Bill never spoke about what happened between them.

 

         There was one time, that Ellen had gotten him drunk enough to start telling dumb stories about his past, and as they were laughing their lungs out, Ellen curled up to his right side under his arm and asked about John, Bill began to tell the one time when John had stolen a couple of boxes of donuts from the locals for them and made a 'stupid fort with freakin' flashlights and pillows n' shit' and they ate themselves to a stupor waking up with Johns head 'face full of goddamned doughnut stuffin' on his lap and his leg thrown over John's at the time 'bony ass uncomfortable' waist. Bill looked like he was about to say something more by the way his face lit up with undiluted happiness and Ellen thought she might have never seen the man so happy before, as he laughed once again, but seemingly thought better of it and kept his mouth shut, after that the night filled with quiet sullen sadness and Ellen never brought it up again, and neither did he.  

 

"What was the favor?" she asked, seemingly snapping herself out of the daze of the recalling, and it looked like he was lost in some memories of his own because his gaze was locked onto the old hardwood floor that had been nailed down by Ellen's father himself forty years ago. Ellen twitched her head in an attempt to get his attention but he only replied with a "hmm?" and "oh!" 

 

"H- he um.. " he stammered, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if to physically shake off whatever thoughts he'd been having previously. "wanted to know if he could send his youngest over for a coupl'a days, he didn't specify much but some sumbitch kidnapped the kid and John and a few others' out there to get revenge for im'" 

 

 "Oh.." Ellen breathed a little deeper through her lungs. "So no hunt huh?" she asked, just to make sure.

 

 "Nope." Bill fixed her with a softly confused look.

 

 "Just baby sittin'?" She mumbled

 

"Yup" he said, and really, Ellen wished right now that it was 'just babysitting' because nothing could prepare a mother for the sight she saw when she opened that boy's bedroom door.

 

***

 

"Sam? Sam honey dinner's ready." Ellen said, knocking on the door softly... no answer, 'he must be asleep' she thought.

 

"Sam?" she said again announcing her entrance as she slowly pushed the door open, and when she did, a surprised gasp was extricated from her lungs because there he was, sitting cross legged on the carpet in front of a piece of blank paper, and really nothing would have been wrong with this picture except for the puddle of blood that was steadily expanding across the carpet beneath the deathly pale boy. The shock left as quick as it came and her hunter instincts immediately kicked in as she fell to her knees in front of the boy, swift practiced hands sweeped over the areas of most concern, chest, head, neck stomach, arms... and there it was, the slow drip of blood dribbling from his clutched hand to his elbow.

 

"Oh Sam, Sammy dear open your hand, let go, come on, open up, please baby let me see." and he looked almost drugged by the delay that occurred between hearing the words and actually listening to them because he suddenly reacted almost a full ten seconds later and unclenched his hands as if he'd been burned, brows furrowing in confusion when he obviously didn't hear the pencil drop, and he glanced at his hand the exact same second Ellen did.

 

'how did he not feel that?'

 

It was truly a horrible sight to bear, the palm of his hand cut up and torn with the wood of the shattered pencil and Ellen minutely wondered what kind of pressure he must have been putting on it for it to snap the way it did. Paying closer attention she grasped the palm of his hand in hers and slowly removed the larger of both ends out of the bleeding skin as her mouth continued the questions in her mind out loud without her permission, "Sam honey are you okay? what happened? how did you-? why? what? honey look at me, are you alright?" She kept asking as she slowly picked each bristle from the boy's mangled hand, and she was pretty sure some of those pieces were stuck in his knuckles.

 

Suddenly she felt the boys hand go limp in hers and she didn't have enough time to let go if the now profusely bleeding hand to catch his fall which had been softly cushioned by the carpet. For a second she thought that it might have been because of the blood loss, but he went directly unconscious before he even hit the floor. Ellen let go of his hand and sweeped her right arm under him picking him up and onto her lap, yelling for her husband and getting lost in pleading Sam and god at the same time.

 

"Sam, Sammy honey wake up, wake up for me baby come on, please oh my god HELP ME WILLIAM! Sam! wake up baby come on." but his face scrunched up in what looked like pain and Ellen thought he was waking up, but he started whimpering, soft little hurt sounds coming from the back of his throat until they turned into screams, howls of pain as he writhed in her arms shaking almost convulsively and Ellen took his hand in hers putting so much pressure on it she was sure she couldn't feel her own fingers, for the sake of him not bleeding out. William almost stumbled on Ellen's crouched form as he ran into the room and took a second to absorb the situation, but before he could even react she was yelling above the boy's screams for him to call John, and that's exactly what he did. 

 

As soon as Bill left the room Ellen shifted under the shaking boy in her arms placing his head in the crook of his neck only slightly concerned that he might bite her, but she began to rock him in her arms and shushed him until she heard him talking, begging really, and she stilled immediately. At first it was soft mumbles of "please" and "s-stop" and she thought they were directed at her so she looked at his face but found nothing more than a sleeping boy, and 'was he having a dream?' but her questions were definitely replied by another yelp of pain and more begging "Stop, stop! PLEASE! LET me GO! Don't hurt me please! no that hurts pleasepleasepleeasee DEAN HELP ME!" and he was screaming bloody murder, and she was suddenly so confused, she had never heard of any child to ever have nightmares so strong, so fearful that they left them convulsing, at least not a boy Sam's age, she was pretty sure that John wouldn't take such a young boy on hunts, no matter how crazy he was, that would just be stupid, the only people that have this kind of reaction would be trauma pat- oh. oh. and suddenly everything clicked in her head "Kidnapped" "Revenge" "Don't hurt me" and what on earth had they done to this boy? Very unpleasant thoughts swam through her head and she clenched her eyes shut. 'no they couldn't have...' but Sam's blood curdling screams were saying other wise, quite literally.

 

"Please PLEASE! let me goOO!" every word escalating in pitch and all Ellen wanted to do was waking him up, but if he had been through even half of the things that Ellen thought of, scaring him out of a flashback could be a grave mistake, so she settled for trying to soothe him. Clenching her eyes shut she tried very hard to not think of all the things that could have happened to him, but if they'd hurt him wouldn't she have noticed? wouldn't Sam have noticed? what if..  Her left hand lifted his shirt frantically in an attempt to reveal skin, she didn't really know exactly what she was looking for, bruises? blood? scars? but that definitely wasn't it, and she knew for sure when she found it, there was nothing on the boy's chest, so she tried flipping him over and looked at his back, but there was nothing there, however, something caught her eye.  

     There, just above the waistline there were three dots, large enough to be the pads of fingers, and she was sure that if she pulled a little lower a hand print is what she would find. And despite the voice in her head screaming not to, she tugged Sam's already loose fitting jeans a little further and tears burned in her eyes unbidden. There was the mark of a hand, not red as if he had just been smacked but yellowish, the kind that looks like its been bruised for days and is just starting to heal. The perfectly marked fingers spanned from the inside of his cheeks fanning out wide to grasp onto his hips, marked only with the pressure of a grown adult, and suddenly disturbing images flickered across her mind once again. She knew what she would find if she looked a little further, and she decided against it, even though her motherly instincts were desperately wanting to make sure he was alright, enough had been done to Sam without his consent, and she made sure that if she were to check on him, it would be because he agreed to it.

_Rape..._ the word resonated through her head as she pulled the now semi- limp boy back into her arms.  _Rape.. rape. rape._ todestroy. strip. spoil. That was what happened to such an innocent boy, and there wasn't enough rage in the world that could match up to the hate Ellen was feeling right now. They had broken someone, something so pure, taken the only thing that he should have had a say in from him violently, and that knowledge would stain him forever, make him feel impure, the memory of being ripped into, and Ellen thought about how much that must have hurt, for such a small child to have to bear something like that, most likely unprepared. She thought about the family he had, more like the one he didn't, how he might blame himself, how he may never get care for the emotional wounds this has created in him, and suddenly she found herself clutching onto him so hard her arms hurt and deliberately sobbing into his neck. She could never let him go, no matter what anyone said, god knows the law would back her up for sure, but she couldn't let someone like John Winchester take Sam, not ever, someone so kind, sweet, innocent and respectful who deserved much much more than a life on the road, she saw the spark in him, the smarts, the potential hunter, she saw someone who wanted to learn, absorb, and do things, she could give him that, she could give him a family, a mother, school, the life John could never give him.

"Dean" he whimpered one last time as the soft tremors finished going through his body, and then she was reminded. Reminded of the only thing that probably mattered to the boy, the only thing that had been steady in his life for so long, she had seen him almost crawl the walls, reject his food, almost scratched himself to death at one point with the need to see his brother again, and she knew she couldn't do that to him, she could never separate those two boys, it was useless to give Sam a school, a home, and love if he didn't have his brother, and she knew John would probably murder everyone in her household before letting go of his firstborn. Rage backed its way into her system, rage, hate and anger only directed at John Winchester, the man that had found his son after being kidnapped and raped, and sent him off two states away with people he didn't know, and telling the child it was his fault his brother was gone, and with the constant look in the boy's eyes that had been steady for days, he had definitely believed it. God, she was going to kill that man, even if it was the last thing she'd ever do.

***

 

 


End file.
